How to Meet New People
by Matt the Batman Fan
Summary: Bruce Wayne is looking to get a job done, Scandal Savage is looking for a way to relax, and poor Lloyd Thomas is just going to have to deal with that. A companion story to The Misfits.
1. A Matter of Birds and Stones

Author's Note: Well, I suppose I should set up a time frame for this puppy before we begin now, shouldn't I? This medium-sized tale takes place in the month between Chapters #15 and #16 of _The Misfits, _a delightful series that I highly recommend reading. Because of the magic of controlling this timeline, The Misfits' roster now currently consists of Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Lloyd Thomas, Kara Zor-el, and a still-undercover Noah Kuttler. In other words, you're not going to be seeing any former Teen Titans or Young Justicers in this yarn. That being said, I've got some, well, less distinguished heroes to help pick up their slack.

This one's for Leigh, Ryan, and SpiritHellfire for giving me some great ideas about one-shots. Granted, this isn't a one shot but, hey, I'm guessing you guys knew that I couldn't stay away from episodic storytelling for long.

And now, without further a due, Matt the Batman fan presents. . .

_How to Meet New People_

Chapter One

A Matter of Birds and Stones

_Day One - The Batcave – 3:23 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Lloyd Thomas could nearly hear his vertebrae screaming a horrible protest tune as they and the rest of him helped him descend down the staircase. The surrounding aching muscles also made their issues felt with each and every movement, his usually compliant, powerful body apparently choosing to unite as one to remonstrate what they all considered to be a horrific proposition Of course, the vigilante known as The Black Dog knew that his frame had the right to complain, particularly given the fact that, not twenty-four hours ago, his body had been essentially drug across a sizeable majority of Franklin Mountain State Park at roughly one-and-a-half times the speed of sound. Indeed, his recent brawl with the supernatural force of nature known as The Spectre, a conflict that unwilling carried him throughout much of El Paso before he managed to help break the spirit of vengeance free from its hypnosis, had left Lloyd in a state of physical and psychological exhaustion that he had only now just begun to recover from.

That being said, Lloyd was beginning to think that the worst of the surrounding, niggling sensations and thoughts that continued to pester him was something that he hadn't given the least bit of thought to during his hunt for The Scarab of the Blue Beetle. The sordid thoughts had sunk its claws into him well before then but the fact remained that the damage hadn't really managed to make its presence felt until he spent the last 22 hours bedridden while recovering from his wounds. Yes, nearly 150 nights of battle and training and assignments and recovery and the overall humdrum of being a crime fighter was officially beginning to catch up with the British assassin. He had hoped that the problem would somewhat ease away upon his arrival in Gotham but now it seemed that every shy smile, sly smirk, or flirtatious comment thrown his way by some of the city's more eye-catching members of the fairer sex had finally molded together to form something that couldn't be denied.

The Black Dog officially felt boxed in.

Or horny. The exact definition probably depended upon his mood and the sensibilities of those who perceived it.

Now, given that he was supposed to be a half-demon warrior of nearly boundless discipline and skill, Lloyd supposed that he might feel a bit ashamed that the temptation for fulfilling one of his basest instincts was something that had grown into a potential distraction in his line of work. Mao had certainly taught him better than that, after all. Of course, he was also a 19-year-old male and that aspect of his personal makeup had the tendency to occasionally override even the strictest of teachings and the purest of intentions. He thought he had reached his lowest point during a long night nearly two months ago when he felt momentarily tempted to give a ring to the Turkish harem that he and Scandal had helped free from a demonic invasion several years ago. After all, they did say that they would be eternally grateful.

But then, on the way down here, he caught himself looking at Stephanie's ass.

The mere thought of being brought down to such a sad, pathetic level still forced him to shudder.

"Um. . . Lloyd, right? Are you okay?"

Oh, he did not need this right now. It was ridiculous how much he didn't need to see what was in front of him.

He had to admit that he didn't know as much as he would have liked about the newest member of their shadow ops squad. In fact, the only thing that he really knew about Kara Zor-el in the present time was that she was sitting (cross-legged, oh bloody hell) in the chair placed near the trio of Cray supercomputers that dominated the bulk of the main chamber. The fact that she wasn't in her Supergirl costume was nothing short of a godsend but the khaki shorts the fair-haired super heroine was wearing in its stead didn't exactly make things a great deal easier for him. They ended several inches above the knees under the best of circumstances but Kara's current state of sitting left her long, slightly muscular, coltish legs, inches upon inches of what were quickly becoming slightly tanned perfection in Lloyd's distracted perspective, to be revealed to his roving, apparently shameless eyes.

"Hey, uh. . . Are you sick or something?"

Lloyd finally managed to snap back, his hazel eyes almost ripping themselves away from the ridiculously pleasing sight as he shook his head back and forth. Had he been capable of doing so, the boy known as The Black Dog could have possibly noticed the slight blush on Kara's cheeks and the timid smile that poked out from underneath the Kryptonian's lips as she watched his hair flop back and forth with his movement. However, fate had promptly decided to throw the half-blood one of its familiar middle fingers and his usually strong sights failed to catch a hint of it.

"Soooooo," Lloyd began, the crime fighter determined to keep his eyes locked on whatever Kara was looking at on the monitor. "What 'cha doin', pet?"

"Oh, uh," Kara replied with equal conversational cleverness, the awkwardness now almost tangible within The Batman's personal headquarters. "I'm checkin' out this website. I think Stephanie called it, uh, 4chan or somethin'? She said that it might help me learn more about pop culture and stuff."

"Huh." The combination of his sudden shyness and the completely understandable hesitation that came with the thought of Stephanie Brown placing herself in charge of introducing an alien to Earth's customs was proving to be more than enough to lower his IQ into the low teens. "Well, I'm gonna, take a looksee on Batman. See what's. . ." Lloyd swung his arms forward and back as he struggled to complete the seemingly monumental task of finishing a sentence. "Goin' on with him."

"Okay."

The speed with which Kara poured into swerving her chair back so she could face the main monitor was so significant that the plastic wheels threatened to make an indentation on the stone floor beneath it. The audible _squeeeeak _that sounded out through the tall cavern sounded phenomenally sharp to Lloyd, so much so that he was nearly tempted to teleport to his latest intended destination (be it the small cavern on the western end of the catacombs or the center of The Arctic Ocean, he wasn't sure of which right now). However, in the time it took to finish the debate, The Black Dog managed to marshal his discipline and make his way towards where he originally intended to go in the first place.

On the bright side, the continued grievances his body was more than ready to file against him seemed decidedly less significant now.

Lloyd let out a long breath as he finally arrived at his stop, his hazel eyes quick to pick up the presence of a man who looked as if he were the vessel of a soul wrapped within all the comfort a peaceful mind could provide. However, the gift of telepathy bequeathed to him by the power of The Condemner allowed Lloyd to uncover a decidedly different side of this unmoving story. In fact, the palpable aura of strain that currently clung to Bruce Wayne was little more than a psychic fingerprint, the combined stressors of the ongoing friction between him and Jason Todd and the escalating conflict between The Secret Society and The Justice League still rumbling in the forefront of Batman's mind as he tried his best to restore peace to his troubled psychological landscape.

As for the rest of what Lloyd was sensing from his commanding officer, well, perhaps it would be best to finish this description by recognizing the wisdom in The Black Dog's decision to remain quiet as Bruce Wayne turned his eyes towards him. The combination of The Dark Knight of Gotham and the presence of such lingering, squalid notions would have been little more than an affront to a good man's dignity.

"I've got a mission for you."

Lloyd couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in interest, the borrowed mental image of a decidedly naked Dinah Laurel Lance quickly making its exit. "Don't suppose this assignment doesn't have anythin' to do with findin' a little filly to sort my baggage out, does it?"

The annoyed Batglare fired back at him was a bit for The Black Dog to weather but he managed to endure it as Bruce rose to his feet.

"As loathe as I am to say it, you may very well have that opportunity," Batman replied, the words bringing a cautious but definitive smile to the face of the British assassin. "You will read the attached, digital dossier within your file folder in the central computer in order to properly brief yourself on the objectives. Alfred will be responsible for answering any further questions or conducting any more preparations you may need in terms of proper attire."

Lloyd pursed his lips as he considered the potential meanings behind Batman's words, his tired body still leaning against the doorframe even as Bruce left the room and starting making his way up to his bedchambers. "Don't suppose that I kin invite a lady of my own to whatever high-end shindig we happen to be raidin' tonight?"

Bruce replied with a long sigh as if the older crime fighter couldn't believe that he was being asked to devote more time to his current enterprise. "I can consider the option so long as this woman is able to maintain a solid cover, is willing to keep quiet on the true intentions of our mission, and is _not_ Stephanie."

The Black Dog fired a wry smile at Bruce's back. "No worries, boss. Already got somebody who fits all three of those descriptions. In fact, I think you might like her."

* * *

_The House of Secrets – 2:17 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Scandal Savage had long hoped that there would never come the day when she would be counting the minutes before she could take another aspirin. Her temples let out an angry pulse as she spun the bottle of Advil back, her eyes determined to yet again read the instructions posted there in the vain hope that she could change the wording of the instructions by sheer force of will. Tragically, the bitter, blue-green letters informing her of the health consequences of taking another of those wonderful orange caplets over the course of the next two hours refused to respond to her bidding.

_I'm an immortal who has regrown twelve kidneys and fifteen lungs, _the leader of The Secret Six morosely mused to herself while letting the small bottle tumble from her grip. _So how come __I can't hold off a god damned migraine? _she asked as the plastic container slowly rolled across the table before landing on the carpet below with a muffled _thump_.

She was damn certain that she hadn't asked for any of this. It was pretty obvious to her that she had grown more than comfortable with a life of luxury with the occasional altruistic measure thrown in just so she could keep her karma levels steady. Now, however, she was bravely investigating the doings of The Secret Society at the wishes of Mao Tenryu while doing what she could to protect the life of one of her younger descendants. While the first good deed was something that she could stave onto the wisdom of keeping within the good graces of one of the world's preeminent power players, the second endeavor remained to be a task that could not be falsely explained away so easily.

She gained nothing by ensuring the safety of Lian Harper. As a matter of fact, the sheer frustration wrought by looking after the girl's disgusting excuse of a mother had quickly become far more than a simple pet peeve.

The mercenary was almost ready to snatch up the bottle from off the floor and read the instructions once again before her ears were assaulted. Her eyes also managed to deliver a fresh delivery of pain as she caught the sight of the stringy, red hair and the black-and-white checkered pattern of the outfit worn by the owner of the high and dandy voice that was currently doing a fine job of piercing through her cranium.

"Greetings and salutations, O Ye Fair Maiden of Villainous Middle Management," Peter Merkel Jr. said in greetings with a tone that nearly caused Scandal's eyes to cross in agony. The accompanying cartwheels and somersaults that the disturbing contortionist threw into his welcome hardly did her any favors either as the few seconds she unwillingly spent in watching all the motion made her momentarily queasy.

"What can I do for you, Ragdoll?" Scandal finally asked, surprised by her own patience.

Ragdoll responded to the dour words with a curious tilt of his head, the gesture allowing the left side of his head to dip well below his shoulder blades. "I was merely hoping to inquire about the pet policy of this cheerfully gothic manor," he went on while moving to sit on his haunches, the tasteful chairs sitting right beside him being decidedly ignored.

"Pet policies?" Scandal parroted back while running her hands through her short, curly brown hair, her mind quite alive with all the disturbing possibilities.

"Oh, yes," Ragdoll replied, the cheery murderer not looking the least bit offended by the sarcasm laced in his leader's voice. "You see, I must confess that I have taken quite a liking to this new domicile, muchly in thanks to your charming presence, might I add, and now I would like to take the steps needed to add some of my own flair and panache to the proceedings. Perchance you could inform me on if and where I may be able to get a hold of some monkeys?"

"DON'T HURT THE CLOWN!!!!!"

The former employee and student of Mao Tenryu was quite grateful that she suddenly didn't have the time to properly respond to Ragdoll's request. On the other hand, the raucous interruption also managed to intensify the pain bouncing around her skull through a three-pronged attack. The first shot, of course, originated from the sheer volume of the bellowing coming from the most physically imposing member of her squad while the realization that she was soon to be confronted with another troublesome situation that she would have to defuse seemed to prefer taking potshots at her sanity from a safe distance. Finally, as if the gods were now choosing to actively punish her for one of her many past misdeeds, the sound of a door slamming and the following angry clack of spiked high heels added to the cacophony as Scandal was confronted by yet another unwanted presence.

"One of the few things that I requested upon joining your team was that I be allowed my privacy," growled Jade Nguyen, the Oriental assassin and poisons expert more commonly known as Cheshire looking repulsed by the mere notion that she would have to ask for assistance. "Now I ask you to give me one reason why I shouldn't sell the lot of you to The Society and take my leave of you fools at the first possible opportunity?"

_How about the fact that your own daughter might be killed? _Scandal replied within her own mind while repressing the urge to rip the narcissistic gleam out of the eyes of the exotic murderess. Indeed, the threat directed at Cheshire and made by the enigmatic figure known to them only as Mockingbird, the entity that Mao had steered her towards in order to help her get a leg up on putting a dent into The Secret Society's actions, should have been more than enough to prevent Nguyen from even thinking of betraying the team. Unfortunately, it had quickly become obvious to Scandal that it would be up to her to ensure the safety of Jade's daughter and her descendent. Biting back her hypothesis that the woman in front of her might very well get them all killed, the daughter of Vandal Savage finally decided to return to the role of the professional.

"And just what are you complaining about, Miss Nguyen?"

As if on cue, another of her teammates finally managed to make his way into her quarters. However, despite the fact that the alien had almost shattered her eardrums with his previous bawling, Scandal had to admit that Parademon was a far more welcome sight than either Cheshire or Ragdoll. Sporting ashy, gray skin and a muscular frame that was mostly hidden from sight thanks to his green-and-yellow body armor, the unflinching loyalty of the former soldier of Darkseid had been a breath of fresh air in contrast to Cheshire's bald-faced deceit and the downright disgusting behavior of both Deadshot and Ragdoll. There was a look of almost fearful innocence in the creature's gleaming yellow eyes as Cheshire let out a warning hiss while pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"This _thing_ was rooting through my personal effects," Cheshire practically screeched in response to Scandal's previous question. "Do you see me sneaking into the quarters of these freaks and searching their clothes? Scandal, I demand that you do something about this insult, lest you wish for me to do it in your stead."

"Oh, dear. It appears that I may be at fault for this grievous misunderstanding." Ragdoll interceded before Scandal could express her own frustrations, the freak's heavily scarred countenance looking more than a little miffed. "You see, Parademon was accompanying me while I was discussing the possibilities of dressing up what I hope to be my future primate companions as a way of honoring my newfound human comrades. However, it appears that my dear, simplistic friend, out of misplaced loyalty, simply chose to take matters into his own hands. My dearest apologies, Miss Cheshire."

Scandal almost breathed a sigh of relief as Cheshire redirected her rage towards the rubbery monkey aficionado. Quite frankly, the urge to wipe the smug look off of the raven-haired woman's face with help from the nearby brick wall had almost become too much for her to endure.

"And just why would you choose to 'honor' me so, you fetid miscreant?"

"Well, I realize that you might believe that the two of us have gotten off on the wrong foot, thanks in no small part to your attempts to poison my Jello supply not one week ago." Ragdoll countered with a calm shrug of his shoulders. "However, I merely wanted to assure you that I take no offense and that I would like to do what I could to pay proper tribute to our recent alliance."

Scandal could almost feel her head exploding as Cheshire mercifully stalked her way out of her office chambers. Ragdoll followed in hot pursuit, the dandy man of The Secret Six continuing to explain the societal virtues of dressing up monkeys as they went. Stooping down for a second in order to swoop up the previously discarded bottle of Advil, she quickly unscrewed the lid and downed three of them with a single swallow before realizing that she still had a guest.

"Yes, Parademon?" she asked before letting out a tired breath.

The slow fidgeting and naive hemming that Parademon was pulling himself through made the auburn-haired mercenary almost immediately regret her previous harshness. She did her best to look understanding as the former Apokolips native summoned the courage to speak.

"You will not. . . hurt the clown, will you?"

Scandal couldn't help but let out a sigh. "No, I will not hurt the clown," she responded with a wry smile.

"Good," Parademon said simply before displaying a wide smile, his gleaming upper fangs easily visible below the creature's thin lips. "Miss Scandal, may I pull out Poison Lady's liver if shehurts the clown?"

"Sounds good to me," Scandal answered with hardly a second thought, the trilling of her cell phone managing to restore at least an ounce of her sanity. "Hold on, Parademon, I need to take this. Hello?"

"'Ello, big sis," Lloyd said in greetings, the West London lilt prompting Scandal to shut her eyes and let out a relieved smile. "Got an offer fer you that you kin refuse but I hope you won't."

* * *

_Day Two - Wayne Manor 1__st__ Floor Day Room – 11:05 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Lloyd's low whistling of Irving Berlin's _Steppin' Out With My Baby _continued to drag on while he made some final adjustments to the tie he had just finished wrapping up with the aid of the pointers Mao had given him back when he was 13 years old. Running the fingertips of his left hand over the line of red silk hanging just below his neck, he continued his musical pursuits while roving over the image that the mirror in front of him was willing to present. Taking a moment to battle back the sudden urge to find a top hat, the British mercenary examined his suit shirt and tuxedo and found himself quickly satisfied with what he saw. Alfred may have had a point when he said that the tie may have been a little much, particularly given the stark blacks and whites of the stylish but classic suit but The Black Dog soon decided that he would take the risk. He finally concluded his preparations by making a quick check of the vanishing charm he had placed on the _Mugalshir_, the gleaming, silver saber strapped to his back, before turning around in order to be appraised by the two other denizens of the sun- dappled chambers.

"Well, if only the tailors could do something about your dearth of musical aptitude," Alfred began as the gentleman began to stride forward. Just as Lloyd had expected, the butler and caretaker of Wayne Manor was quick to conduct a closer inspection of his tie and jacket for any potential miscues and immediately began to loosen the former so he could make his own last-second adjustments. "However, I suppose that this shall be passable for this evening's affairs."

"Ta for the support, Jeeves," Lloyd fired back with a smirk.

Alfred replied with a distracted nod as he prepared the younger of his two projects to meet his nearly peerless standards. "That being said, Master Thomas, I find myself astonished that you would wish to engage in such a trivial exercise, particularly given your past refusals to engage in the many public functions here at the manor."

"This is not merely a charity function or a ceremonial ball," Bruce Wayne growled back in Lloyd's defense, the older vigilante already dreading the moment when Alfred would turn his appraising eyes towards him. "This is the coming together of some of the most powerful heads of state the world over in order to celebrate the transaction of nearly $50 billion into some of Earth's emptiest coffers. The European Union, NATO, and nearly a dozen unaffiliated nations are doing their best to claim credit for the philanthropy and they'll be coming to Istanbul to take one final shot at it."

"So I have heard and anticipated," Alfred replied as he finally pulled away from his fellow Brit, the former Interpol agent now satisfied with Lloyd's appearance. "And you consider this to be the most appropriate venue in which to discuss professional matters with Master Kuttler?"

Bruce resisted the urge to pointlessly glare at Alfred as the refined gentleman checked his jacket for wrinkles and his tie for messy loops. After all, he had nearly forty years to learn that such efforts to stop the determined butler would only be met with failure and a frustratingly prolonged evaluation. "Not all information can trade hands through communication and computer links, old man," the detective retorted while willing himself through the scrutiny. "This will also allow me the opportunity to further establish Bruce Wayne's position as a global player as well as further establish The Black Dog as a current agent in Gotham to those who would be smart enough to stay away from his presence."

"Welllllll, I say that having two dudes show up in the middle of a Turkish palace will still ask more questions than it answers."

The three gentlemen in the room did their best not to look annoyed as Stephanie Brown bounded into the room. They even continued to watch silently as the fair-haired Gothamite pitched herself into an effortless cartwheel before twisting her body through a flawless double somersault that allowed her to land butt-first down onto the seat of a nearby leather recliner with a mighty _whump!. _Alfred found that he had to try particularly hard not to cinch or seethe at Robin while he calculated the time and capital that would be needed to potentially fix the piece of furniture that the young Green Lantern had giddily pounced on. Of course, that temptation nearly broke into a barely tempered rage as Stephanie swung her boot-clad feet on top of the nearby oak table, the bright smile on her face a clear sign that she knew what she was doing and was glad to be doing it.

"Now are ya sure you guys don't want to let me in on this little shindig?" Robin asked while continuing to pester her targets. "'Cause, just between me, you guys, and the walls, I'm

not certain if you two'll be able to pull this off without a charming lady by your side."

Lloyd's noisy coughing managed to rise up over both the sound of Alfred's impatient tutting and the intensity of Bruce's pointed Batglare. "Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized while drumming his right palm against his chest. "Swore I could 'ave heard Tweety call herself charming. Cor, almost swallowed me tongue that time."

"Oh, don't start thinking that you're clever all of a sudden," Stephanie fired back. "At least with me Bruce doesn't have to worry about somebody getting so excited that they'll make wee-wee on the carpet, _Puppy_," the former street urchin added while almost spitting out the nickname she had bequeathed to her comrade.

"Wot's that now?" The Black Dog asked in a rather cocky matter, the older of the two debaters realizing that he had that advantage and finding himself more than happy to exploit it. "Again, I'm just really distracted today. I was just thinkin' back to last year's Yule Ball when ya tossed ya cookies into the courtyard fountain. While under the influence of the punch that you yourself spiked, no less."

"That's enough," Bruce finally snapped, the usually patient leader finally tired of all the bickering. "Robin, we already have someone accompanying us in your place. Someone who is more than capable of completing whatever objectives that I would have asked of you."

"Yeah, I've heard all about her from Lloyd Boy here," Stephanie replied in opposition while indistinctly waving her right hand somewhere close to Lloyd's direction. "However, there's nooooo way that this Savage lady has got the style and skills I bring to the table."

"Perhaps not," Bruce attested while sporting his usual half-smirk. "However, I'm finding her proven ability to keep a low profile to suddenly be phenomenally enticing."

"Booooooo," Stephanie fired back with a childish pout, her arms quickly crossing over her chest as she radiated her frustration. "Fine then," she went on while leaping back to her feet. "No doubt I'm too smexy for that for that high-fallutin' popsicle stand anyway," she assured both them and herself as she flounced out of the room in her usual, vibrant manner.

As was often the case when she was not around to see him, Alfred responded to Stephanie's actions with an extravagant roll of his eyes. "I cravenly hope that the both of you realize that you have essentially placed that madwoman under my care," the butler noted as he finally finished adjusting Bruce's hair. "The sheer dread that comes with such a pursuit would prompt most people to ask for a significant raise."

"Ah, there's nothin' to worry about, Jeeves," Lloyd replied in an attempt to assure the rightfully dismayed older gentleman. "Knowin' Tweety, the chit'll probably find her own way of entertaining 'erself. Stay out of her way and I'm sure you'll be fine."

Mister Pennyworth took another handful of seconds to give the two well-dressed gentleman a final inspection. Pleased with his findings, he then turned his aged eyes back over to Lloyd and gave The Black Dog a meaningful look.

"I suppose that one can only hope, Master Lloyd."

* * *

_8:22 A.M. – Pacific Standard Time_

Thomas Blake had never come to appreciate all that could be learned from becoming the hunted. Perhaps that was just a consequence of the five years spent watching his skills, his _livelihood _fall apart at the hands of his own indifference and laziness. However, despite the ideological and spiritual rebirth that he experienced in the jungles of the Congo, he still could not fully eliminated the insecurity and lingering paranoia he felt as he paced back and forth across the room like a proud but nervous member of the pride that helped him restore his soul. Instead, the mercenary once again known as Catman tried to take comfort in some of the more comfortable of those past memories, his attempted recollections of the sights and scents of the savannah. He remembered the smell of his sweat coursing down his forehead and sliding down his nose as he sprawled within the tall grass after a long run, thought back to how his thoughts seemed to stretch in front of his eyes as he and his fellow hunters awaited the proper time to strike.

But there was nothing to attack here. He had willingly walked into this ridiculously open trap and now there was nothing left to do but to await the consequences of his foolishness.

"All right. Here I come. How do I look?"

Despite the firm knowledge that he knew this was coming, Blake still had a hard time summoning up the words that had apparently chosen to lodge themselves somewhere within his throat. Part of it, almost thankfully, had to do with the fact that Scandal (his apparent boss, he reminded himself) looked absolutely gorgeous. The elegant, sleeveless black dress that began at the middle of her neck and kept going until bottoming out just inches above her ankles suited her nicely both in body and in spirit. Other than the hint of skin, bone, and muscle between the hem of the dress and her short-heeled dress shoes, the only parts of her skin revealed to the open eye was her long, nimble arms and her slender but sharp face. It would have been difficult for many to see the true power in her now, especially seeing that so little of her was on display, but 20 years of being both predator and prey allowed him to see that there was a truly dangerous woman behind all the subtle beauty.

Most importantly, it was a far cry from the ruthlessly straightforward splendor that Cheshire had offered to him for the last two weeks. Despite the fact that he had chosen to take the woman up on her offers more often than not, even someone as emotionally starved as Blake realized that he hadn't picked the sanest way reintroducing himself to the outside world.

"How's your headache?"

Not to mention that the question that poured out of his lips provided as good an explanation as any to why the most meaningful relationship he's had with a woman in the past decade is with a horny Chinese assassin. Gratefully, Scandal seemed to weather the awkward query with a patient smile as she slowly turned herself around.

"I'm just fine, Thomas," she replied softly while revealing her back to her extraordinarily cautious prey. "Especially now that I'll be able to get out of all of this for just one night. Could you zip me?"

As she waited for him by following his slow footsteps, the daughter of Vandal Savage almost found it hard to believe that the ridiculously cautious, nervous fellow was the same, menacing huntsman who tore into whatever physically opposed him with a precise and calculated fury. Although there were certainly more colorful characters currently occupying the so-called House of Secrets, she had to admit that it was Thomas Blake that intrigued her the most. Maybe it was just the fact that the muscular red-head was trying so hard to keep his thoughts under wraps or that he still didn't realize just what he could be capable of but the fact of the matter was that she had come to appreciate the struggles that Catman was going through. She knew that it took a unique kind of courage to take on both the conflicts that confronted you face on while searching for the skirmishes that loomed in the darker parts of the mind and struck at their leisure.

"Are you sure that you're not going to blow your cover by doing this?" Catman asked over the sound of the zipper he slid up from Scandal's lower back up to the nape of her neck. "I mean, there's going to be a lot of powerful people there, right?"

Scandal first busied herself by letting out a breath, her short, auburn hair waving back and forth as she shook her head to and fro. "I'm hardly going in there alone, Thomas. As a matter of fact, I couldn't ask for better protection than what I've already got waiting for me."

"That's, um, that's not what I mean." Blake cautiously replied, his right hand seemingly destined to reach back and scratch the back of his head as the rest of him took in his own ill at ease behavior. Scandal, in response, let out a throaty laugh as she tried not to take too much enjoyment in her colleague's shufflings.

"You know, most people wouldn't object to an elegant night on the town." _Even if you're being accompanied by your little brother and what she was quickly believing to be the world's preeminent stick in the mud, _Scandal added to herself.

"Guess I've never really been comfortable with it myself," Blake finally confessed, the amazingly unsurprising declaration drawing an exaggerated eyebrow raise from his audience. "Even when I was going after Batman or Green Arrow and I would try to get the drop on them at one of those posh functions. Maybe it just scratches at my skin, is all."

"Well, after our first meeting in Zaire, I must admit that you did look a great deal more comfortable without any clothing," Scandal sardonically offered, the unwilling blush she drew from Blake's tanned cheeks nearly tempting her to laugh. "Perhaps the problem lies in the dress policy."

"Well, lady, I wouldn't mind one bit if you decided to follow suit," fired back a far more guileless fellow, the mustachioed marksman quickly drawing attention to himself with his usual careless air. "Sure as hell would beat seein' Catty's hairy ass again while I'm goin' to get a late-night beer."

The two calmer mercenaries slowly turned to regard the presence of their uninvited guest. Of course, Floyd Lawton was usually not one to turn away from such attention, the black-haired marksman calmly countering the wicked glares with a long drag from the cigar trapped between his lips. "Sure I can't come to this little soiree, boss? I mean, when I think about all that free booze that's gonna be wasted if I'm not there. . ."

"Yes, I'm certain that it will be an unmitigated travesty," Scandal said in an impassive counter while giving Thomas a light tap on the shoulder. "On the other hand, given my position as leader of this little band of miscreants, it would be foolish of me not to remember the last time you attended a public function and recall how well that turned out for us."

"Hey, I told you that it wasn't my fault," Lawton replied with a blasé shrug of his shoulders. "I mean, what else do you expect me to do when some little narrow-eyed punk recognizes me and tries to hunt me down with an AK-47?"

"An argument that, shockingly enough, failed to reap us favor during the tribunal at the Chinese embassy," Scandal coolly replied as she made her way out of her own room. "You're in charge in my absence, Thomas."

"HEY!" Deadshot yelped, the unexpected effort causing a hint of ash to drop from the tip of his cigar and land on the once-clean carpet. "Why the hell does Captain Litterbox get to be in charge? I've got seniority!"

"The wonders of process of elimination, Mister Lawton," Scandal replied without missing a beat, her slim, right hand gently patting Deadshot twice on his adjacent cheek as she passed him by.

* * *

_Istanbul – 9:22 P.M._

Once the home of some of the most prominent sultans in the history of The Ottoman Empire, the Topkapi Palace has managed to maintain its status as an architectural wonder for nearly five-and-a-half centuries. Though it has long since been transformed into little more than a museum due to the political aftermath of World War I, the enormous complex overlooking the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara still draws beauty from the rich blues of the Bosporus River that runs alongside and underneath, the peaceful waters beautifully contrasting themselves with the lush greenery within the palace's courtyards and the gleaming, pure-white walls bordering them. Despite the stout presence of the Turkish military posted around and outside the many squares bordering the main palace, the surrounding symbols of a once proud empire torn apart by its attempts to claim everything the world had to offer still had proven themselves to be gifted storytellers to those who chose to listen.

Scandal briefly wondered if Bruce Wayne has or would ever learn such a lesson as she watched Batman and his companion make their way towards her. Of course, such thoughts were quickly shoved away as she broke into a brisk walk in order to intercept her little brother. She couldn't help chuckling as The Black Dog wrapped her up in a tight embrace, pleasantly surprised that Lloyd would be so eager to display his emotions given his long history of reticence. She would have been blind to realize, even just with a cursory glance, that this new life was a good fit for the boy she once reluctantly took under her wing.

"Shrew, you look lovely," Lloyd told her shortly before pecking her on the cheek with a quick, chaste kiss.

"Yes, well, you'll pardon me if I'm a little slow to return the sentiment. I've always found that men have a far easier time when it comes to making themselves look good," Scandal calmly countered while looking both Bruce and Lloyd over. "Honestly, gentlemen, all you have to do is put on a tux, some black dress shoes, and suddenly everyone thinks that you're fit for the finest of occasions."

"Well, I don't write the rules, young lady," Bruce replied with a wide smile, the transformation from brooding vigilante to billionaire playboy already beginning. "I just benefit from them."

"So I see," Scandal said while taking in the slight look of concern on Lloyd's face. Keeping her own curiosity in check, she offered her right hand to the man who had formally invited her to serve as his guest for the evening. "Mister Wayne, I must confess my shock that it's taken so long for us to meet given our. . . many connections."

"Then I suppose I must offer my sincerest apologies," Bruce said smoothly while accepting Scandal's gesture, his rough lips briefly brushing across her wrist before examining the rest of her body with a blatantly charmless leer. "Goodness knows I never like to keep a gorgeous woman waiting for me."

Somewhat compelled to continue the game, the leader of The Secret Six let out a well-practice chuckle while catching the barely noticeable flicker of suspicion in the detective's eyes. "Pardon me for being blunt, Mister Wayne, but I'm afraid that I am off the market in terms of your respective gender. I'm afraid that I've never had a great deal of tolerance for men and the issues they create for themselves by proving their supposed manhood."

"Well, I must admit that I'm sorry to hear that," Bruce answered back, the 40-year-old socialite easily enduring the harsh glare that Lloyd was throwing back at him. "I don't suppose that your distaste for us has come about due to some unsatisfying sexual encounter. . ."

"You realize that I can tell everybody in this room who you are," Lloyd interrupted with a low growl, the younger vigilante eager to place himself back in the conversation despite the almost paralyzing fear he felt as he took this all in. "Just a brief telepathic wave would be all that it would take. Just tell everybody that you leap up and off th' rooftops wearin' black undies. . ."

Bruce responded to the potentially menacing warning with a merry laugh that startled not only Lloyd and Scandal but also many of the other guests making their way into the hall through Gulhane Park. "Well, I suppose that asking you to explain more might be a little embarrassing," the supposed bumbling gossiper finally realized while giving Scandal another once over. "I tell you what, my dear. Seeing as how you're unavailable, I think I'll just leave you in the care of my bodyguard here. I don't want anybody getting the wrong idea, after all."

Scandal was reasonably certain that, given time, she could have come up with a somewhat appropriate reply but her victorious opponent was already walking away before she even knew where to start. Bruce Wayne, the human train wreck whose blunders had graced the gossip pages of news rags around the world, was already doing what he apparently did best. A handful of possessive fathers had already moved to draw closer to their wives and/or daughters by the time Gotham's favorite son weaved his way into the palace proper, the offer to buy everyone a round of drinks from what was already an open bar already spilling from his lips.

"Are you all right?" Scandal asked with more than a little caution, her right hand slowly grasping Lloyd's completely slack left shoulder.

Lloyd shook his head back and forth while tightly shutting his eyes. "Still the most bloody frightening thing I've ever seen," he professed as he quickly pulled himself together. "Honestly, and I thought Mao was bad whenever he pretended to dip a little too much into the rice wine."

"Well, to be fair," Scandal considered while looping her arm with Lloyd's as they began to walk side-by-side, "Mao still had to make everybody certain that he could still make these people a whole lot of money. I suppose Mister Wayne doesn't have to deal with such things."

"Mao never blew up an Amazo robot with a Thangaarian energy charger and a packet of C-4," Lloyd answered back as the light generated by the overhead torches seemed to reveal a great deal more of the gentle smile provided to him by the woman on his arm. "I swear, he'd scar a lot more punks and vagabonds if he wandered into a crime scene actin' like that. Still, I suppose I should thank 'im for givin' me the opportunity to see you again."

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" The soft reply was nearly drowned out by the combination of the surrounding chatter and the music being played by the house band in the southwestern corner of the hall. "Still, I suppose we can take heart in the fact that we've both stayed busy."

"_Ya sure you're not takin' on too much, shrew?" _Lloyd asked through their shared telepathic link. _"I mean, you've burned yourself out on things like this before."_

"_Says the young man who once tried to take down 10 of my dear father's weapons-building operations all on his own in less than 24 hours_," Scandal thought back with a mild note of cheerful teasing, the true statement causing the British mercenary's forehead to furrow. _"And besides, little brother, Luthor's Society may very well kill us all in the near future and then we won't have to worry about wearing ourselves out in the least."_

"Now there's some encouraging words," Lloyd grumbled back, the two of them falling back into the familiar roles they had honed with nearly three years of similar undercover operations. "Still, I suppose that you'll now begin your pursuit of the reluctant five percent?"

Scandal couldn't help but crinkle her nose in response to Lloyd's vulgarity before giving him a return peck on the cheek. "_Happy hunting, Mister Thomas_."

"_And to you, Miss Savage_."

* * *

_Istanbul - Topkapi Palace Basketmasters' Kiosk – 9:37 P.M._

Smoothing his threads as well as his worries the best he could, Noah Kuttler was once again struck by the utter hatred he had of events like these. Despised them ever since he could remember, in fact, since the day his father had literally dragged him out to his first formal ball at the tender age of four. He remembered trying his best to listen to the soothing music being played, his childish mind trying to take comfort in the works of Beethoven and Brahms amidst all the high-minded hustle and bustle. However, the moment he started clapping enthusiastically when the string quartet had finally come to a new movement, and the frantic shushings and admonishments that came from his father that followed, had soon drawn him the kind of attention he had longed to avoid both then and now. He reached for the worn handkerchief in his front suit pocket as he remembered the out-of-control crying that followed and the doting and apologetic words that followed from his parents as they tried their best to calm him down.

Bruce Wayne's inside source into the very root of The Secret Society of Supervillains had made certain to arrive several hours before the party began, if only to calm his nerves and better prepare himself for what might be to follow. His prolonged perusal of the centuries-old Islamic calligraphic manuscripts and murals that lined the eastern halls went a long way into reaching his goal, his diminutive interest in the accompanying weapons, shields, and armor quickly met in only a fraction of the time. As comfortable as he felt surrounded by his computers and mainframes, even in an environment as tense and dangerous as Lexcorp's Gotham offices, even he had to admit that some of the information he had to offer to his friend and employer was too important to transfer over digital communication lines. His revelation of the location of the Brother Eye satellite alone was more than enough to prove the necessity of directly passing on the knowledge he had obtained from right underneath Lex Luthor's nose.

"Wehehelllll, looking sharp there, answer man."

The Calculator could almost feel his blood freeze around his bones, the possibilities of all the possible circumstances behind this unwanted circumstance already rumbling around his well-developed brain. Trying his best to hide his fear, Noah took a moment to clear his throat before turning to address the source of the unwanted compliment.

"What. . . what are you doing here?" he asked, the hacker giving a quick prayer that the telepathic shields provided by The Martian Manhunter would hold. "I would have thought that you. . . you would be back in Gotham."

The potential cat to Noah's canary calmly let out a huff as he made his way forward, his stubby legs carrying him smoothly across the carpeting. "Now, now, Noay Noay Noster," Edgar Cizko replied with his hands still in the pockets of his Armani suit pants. "You're not the only one who likes to enjoy a night on the town. I mean, this place is so full up with lovely, young muff that even I don't know where to start. M&M?"

"Mister Cizko, I hope that you recognize the importance of keeping your vulgar comments to yourself," pointed out another, far more frightening voice, the new arrival prompting Doctor Psycho to put away the offered packet of chocolate and peanut treats. "We don't want to offend Mister Kuttler's kindly ears, after all."

Noah did his best to keep his Adam's Apple from descending into the heel of his left foot as yet another decidedly unwanted fellow made his presence felt. Dressed far more tastefully than either him or Cizko, the longtime power player still made a note to straighten his tie while striding forward in his usual, confident manner. It was blatantly clear that this man had no trouble at all with all the potentially frightful situations that may be taking place just twenty meters beneath their feet, his longtime experience among the most powerful creatures the galaxy had to offer him giving the monster plenty of time to adopt a firm grace under fire.

"And what brings you here, Lex?" asked Noah, his tone a bit sterner than before.

The self-proclaimed leader of The Secret Society responded to The Calculator's neutral question with a slow nod, his bald head catching a hint of the moonlight seeping through the nearby windows. "Well, we do have a great many powerful people here, Calculator. It is only fair that I should choose to make my presence felt."

As frightened as he was, Noah wasn't the least bit fooled by the genial air that Luthor had subtly mixed into his words. The man was still America's most prominent fugitive from justice after his latest battle with Superman, after all, and a public appearance under even the most controlled of circumstances was a risky move at best and a potential catastrophe at worst.

Unfortunately, Luthor was willing to ask Noah's unspoken question. "It's high time that I return to the necessary task of addressing the world, my friend," he continued with an almost anticipatory hunger. "And, if some of our fellow guests manage to get caught in the crossfire then, well, it's nobody's gain but ours."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

(Checks his watch yet again)

Huh. Well, only a few hours past the deadline. Not to shabby, I'd say, given that I've also had to finish up my dissertation over the course of the last 11 days. Of course, I've also gotta admit that writing this stuff is a great deal more entertaining than talking about special education in underdeveloped socioeconomic settings (Don't ask. It's making me fall asleep just thinking that I wrote it). A word to all of my fellow students, however. Don't spend 11 years waiting to get your master's degree like I did. It may sound like an interesting journey but it's expensive as fuck if you don't want to stay out of loan debt territory.

On the bright side, if I keep on going with my training then, in just two years, I can be known as Dr. Matt the Batman Fan. Man, just the thought of seeing that on my business cards would make it all worth it. Oh, and how scary is it that I'm going to be asked to guide the inheritors of the future? I mean, I feel sorry for the world just thinking about it.

But where was I? Ah, yes. . .

* * *

_Next Chapter Preview_

Well, it certainly seems like it's going to be a hot time in the old town tonight, isn't it? Just what will happen if or when the paths of Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor cross? How can Lloyd, Noah, and Scandal keep themselves safe as they get caught up in the conflict? Will Kara be able to keep herself sane in the havoc of Hurricane Stephanie? Oh, and who the hell is serving salad over there in the corner!? And who's the foxy, red-headed chick? Find out the answers to these burning questions in the next installment of _How to Meet New People_: Land-Speed Record for Awkwardness. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	2. Land Speed Record for Awkwardness

Chapter Two

Land Speed Record for Awkwardness

_Istanbul – Topkapi Palace 1__st__ Floor Main Exhibition Hall – 10:03 P.M._

The social interaction dynamic commonly referred to as the expanding circle is a concept that has made its presence felt since well before a name was officially given to it. In fact, the natural habit had come into common practice the moment some creature had decided to establish themselves as predator to someone's prey. However, if only to explain the idea to those who are uninitiated with the terminological intricacies of socialization, the entire principle has to do with the development of one's social skills through organized efforts of self-exploration, journeys ranging further and further into what the individual considers unknown ground. This venturing into the unfamiliar, in turn, eventually produces a sense of urgency that will ultimately prompt the individual to return to their safest point, the "center of the circle", as it were, in order to regain access to their foremost source of emotional stability.

But why a circle, one might ask? Why not a square or a rectangle or a more common shape of a room where one could spend the last forty minutes embarrassing themselves? That particularly disconcerting pair of questions was certainly weighing heavily on Lloyd's mind as he continued to sway back and forth from his spot on the southwestern corner of the dance floor. To his credit, he had managed to stop himself from outright clinging to the familiar woman in his arms like a life preserver in the middle of an exceptionally posh and choppy sea and it hadn't taken long after that to recognize that his partner in misery just happened to be in the same psychological boat.

"You want to know what the scariest part about all of this, Shrew?" Lloyd asked as he led Scandal through a rather slow, dreary waltz.

"The fact that the both of us once honestly viewed this as a possibility to have a good time?" Scandal dully fired back, her response slightly muffled by the fact that she had all but wedged her chin into Lloyd's shoulder blade. She knew that she could have made her response a great deal clearer if she simply lifted her head up but the sheer dullness and depression brought forth by the last hour or so had left her far too lazy to do such a thing.

"No. The fact that the biggest source of entertainment we've had is my boss makin' an absolute twat out of himself."

Scandal let out a slightly amused snort just before the sound of familiar and boisterous laughter sunk into her ears. She hardly needed her eyes to determine the source of the merriment but a quick left turn allowed her to take a closer look as Bruce Wayne wrapped his right arm around a decidedly nervous looking man. All the formal wear made it a little difficult for the leader of The Secret Six to determine who was who but, judging solely from the horrified look that arose on the stranger's face when Gotham's richest man asked about where he could find a good steakhouse in New Delhi, she was fairly confident that the suddenly sick-looking fellow was one of India's representatives for the night's festivities.

"Lloyd David Thomas, you certainly have a knack for falling into the clutches of unusual bosses."

The auburn-haired mercenary found herself surprised to not hear so much as a chuckle or even a distempered grunt from her dance partner. The lack of a reaction finally provided enough of a trigger for her to pull back from her somewhat comfortable resting place in order to look Lloyd in the eye. "This isn't one of your usual brooding sessions, is it?"

The familiar question finally earned Scandal a sigh as the two vigilantes clasped their left hands together before breaking into a brief twirl in response to the cue provided by the piano's upswing. "This. . ." Lloyd began, the young man clearly not certain just what he wanted to whinge about first. "This isn't what I thought I would make of my life."

Scandal wanted to express her sympathy to the boy who had saved her life far too many times than she really felt like counting. Truly she did. However, she also realized that she hadn't maintained this friendship for as long as she had by being a complete emotional doormat and she reflected that with a solid rolling of her eyes. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're a little young for a mid-life crisis?" she asked as her sea green pupils shifted back down to their normal resting place. "And just what does our mutual friend inside your head have to say about this?"

Lloyd momentarily stymied his opponent's rebellious air with a somewhat dangerous glare before bringing himself to respond. "The old demon keeps tellin' me I'm worryin' over nothin'. That I've got plenty of time to get these things squared away." The reply was delivered with a deep, knowing tone as if the speaker was frustrated to see the truth in the words. "Shrew, the last time I ended up lookin' fer me own I ended up becomin' an assassin. Not sayin' that it was all a bad thing, 'specially since it meant I got to meet you and the codger but. . ."

"And before that?" Scandal interrupted, the older of the two dancers eager to get to the point.

"And 'fore that I got locked up in a test tube for five years so you'll pardon me if I'm more than a little up fer securin' my spot."

"Lloyd, that happened when you were _seven_," Scandal said sternly, the severity in her once jocular tone a good indication that this was a discussion that had taken place many times before. "Now, I know how kids your age like to think they know everything but the bottom line is you don't and you're doubtlessly gonna find a way to screw shit up."

The familiar words briefly stung at the young man occasionally known as The Black Dog. However, just as it had before, the moment of caution etched on the Brit's face soon shifted into a smirk.

"Ya kiss your poppa wit' that mouth, Shrew?"

The punch to the shoulder was both familiar and reassuring to the both of them as Lloyd and Scandal once again took relief in each other's company. Barely missing a beat, The Black Dog didn't either bother to defend himself from the blow as he placed his right hand on the small of Scandal's back before leading her through a well practiced contra check. "You know, I would 'ave expected a bit more support from some lass who keeps drummin' 'erself up as me big sister."

Scandal fired back with a sigh of her own. "Lloyd, I've just spent my day talking about gun regulations, pet policies, and the moral and ethical principles behind killing someone who dresses up like a clown," she explained with a surprising degree of patience. "You're lucky you're getting this much from me." Despite her apparent moodiness, the former employee of Mao Tenryu couldn't help but find herself laughing alongside Lloyd as the boy's smirk turned into an out-and-out smile.

"So I guess I'm not the only one in this particular team-up who's feelin' a little boxed in," Lloyd hypothesized, the Brit carrying on with his woes without waiting for a response, albeit with a much more neutral approach. "I guess that's what happens when lads or lasses like you and I finally end up tryin' to settle down. Gettin' lonely lookin' for that special someone, and not just in the 'rut like a pig in the mud' kind of way either."

The older of the two mercenaries didn't even bother shaking her head, a lifetime or more spent surrounded by some of the swarthier members of the more horrific sex making her long comfortable with such disgusting similes. "Well, as silly as it sounds from someone as young as you, I believe I can sympathize." Scandal had little qualms with breaking the traditional stance that had been established for waltzers for nearly two centuries as she wrapped her arms tightly around Lloyd's back. "It's all about having the courage to take a chance, little brother. You've got to be ready to give up something you already have if you want to get something new."

Lloyd almost found himself forced to take a few moments and let the truthful words sink in, his tongue briefly sliding against the back of his teeth as he looked for a way to distract himself from it. "Well, you make it sound all nice and palatable," he sourly replied. "You know, I've changed my mind. Right now, I'd be just as fine findin' somebody I could shag."

"Well, don't come lookin' to me again," Scandal quickly fired back with a snicker. "Still, it can't be that bad. I mean, I've known you to be more Kwai Chang Caine than Austin Powers in situations like these so how bad could it possibly be?"

Lloyd would have allowed his body to come to a complete stop if doing so would not have been viewed as a dreadful faux pas. Instead, he allowed his eyes to represent the rest of him before his words could pick up the slack.

"I rang up Lady Aensland a couple weeks ago."

Scandal couldn't help but suck in a breath before clinching her teeth in a showcase of discomfiture. "Oooooh. Well, anyway. So how is Turkey's most prominent succubus and madam to the demon community?"

"No clue. I hung up out of fright before she could get two words out." Astonishingly, the giggling burbling from Scandal's lips didn't make him feel one bit better. "Been afraid to answer me cell phone ever sense," he added before his dance partner all but slammed her face into his chest in order to stifle the sound of her laughter. However, as troubled as he could have been by the whole matter, The Black Dog soon found himself preoccupied with what was going on at the entrance to the hall. Many other pairs of eyes had turned to meet the intriguing scene, the distraction even prompting the musicians to cease their more than adequate performance in order to allow the nearby master of ceremonies to make the announcement.

"Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to present the esteemed Alexander Luthor and his privileged guest, Miss Talia Al-Ghul."

* * *

_Gotham City – The Batcave – 1:05 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

OMG! Ur so dumb! BC is sooooooo a cow!

Kara Zor-el let out another long sigh as her eyes slowly perused the supposed words on the tall computer screen.

STFU n00b! Fishnets are sexy! Yur prolly a fat-ass bitch who can't wear 'em cuz your lard ass would spill out of 'em!

"How in the name of Rao can two different people misspell the same, exact word in two different ways in so short a time span?" the fair-haired Kryptonian couldn't help but ask herself while slumping both her chin and the right side of her cheek against her right knuckle.

LOL! I so agree wit U, RayPickle! Black Canary is fiiiiiiiiiiine. I'd luuuuuuuv to stick my. . .

"Aaaaaaaand we're moving on," the half-Kryptonian quickly decided aloud while clicking the left mouse button in order to promptly retreat from the latest in a long line of websites and discussion forums that had forced her to question both her intelligence as well as her sanity. After spending the last five, painful hours perusing quite a bit of what Earth's most far-reaching form of mass communication had to offer, she had started to seriously debate the worth of defending the safety and liberties of people that would allow such drivel to exist. Poorly drawn pictures and kitschy, fan-made music videos of some band called Linkin Park and discussions about public figures laced with emoticons and devoid of intelligent debate now all seemed to be working together to attack her gray matter, the sheer collection of stupidity seemingly doing its best to eliminate whatever sense of good judgment she had accumulated in her 16 years.

_Honestly, if I find one more person comparing me to Paris Hilton I'm going to fly up into the stratosphere and use my heat vision to sterilize this whole planet_.

Oh, and she wasn't about to forget that bit of fanfiction she all but wandered into, a piece of tawdry literature whose sole purpose was to discuss the intricacies of what the author would do if he had access to two certain parts of Powergirl's body. In fact, the sheer volume of the material on the World Wide Web that appeared to be devoted to her Earth-1 equivalent, or at least a particular part of Karen Starr's body, had prompted her to fervently wish that she would never reach that particular level of physical "maturity".

As nauseated as she was, Kara was still more than capable of picking up the presence of yet another potential source of irritation sneaking its way towards her. In response, she crossed her slim and perfectly fit arms in front of her appropriately sized chest while waiting for what had quickly become the bane of her existence to get within strangling range. As far as she was concerned, the fact that the monster was sporting a grin so ridiculously toothy that it would have been worthy of an overlay of the _Jaws _theme only made what she was about to do that much sweeter.

"Go away before I kill you," Kara mumbled miserably without even batting an eyelash, her mood slightly lifted by the disappointed sigh that escaped from her tormentor's lips.

"Awwww, and I thought I had you that time!" Stephanie said as she gnashed her teeth in mild frustration, the young Green Lantern looking so childish that she looked half-ready to stamp her boot-clad feet.

"Well, it turns out that I've got these super senses," Kara's explanation was drawn out, meticulous, and laced with more than a trace of sarcasm. "Kindaaaaaaaaa makes it hard to sneak up on me."

"Yeah, yeah," Stephanie replied as she slumped into the nearby computer chair, her medium-length blonde hair flopping up and down along with the rest of her as she briefly bounced in her newfound seat. "Mind if I play Tetris on the big screen, Kare Bear?"

Kara's initial rejoinder was a long, weighted breath that caused a stray bang that had been hanging above her left eyebrow to briefly flutter up from its haphazard location before coming back down to its resting point. "Sorry, Steph. I'm busy using the Batcomputer."

"All you're doing is wasting time on the Internet!" The counterargument was little more than a squawk.

"Welllllll, it looks like that's all this is." The reply kept up the slow, monotonous tone that The Last Daughter of Krypton had been bringing to the table. "Still, some yahoo told me that this would help me learn about Earth culture and, you know, gosh darn it, I'm going to see it through." She punctuated her conviction with a half-hearted thump of her left fist against Stephanie's shoulder that caused Robin to fire back with a decidedly cross look. "Oh, and on a side note," she added with a hint of emotion, "you've got an e-mail from some prince in Egypt that would like you to give him your account number so he can give you money."

"Such graceful charity," Stephanie fired back with a small measure of concession, her deceptively sharp mind already focused upon a new task. Although Alfred, Bruce, and Lloyd may have already caught on to the fact that there was a bit more to her than the braggadocio and loud approaches, this new arrival to her broadening circle of comrades gave her another potential playmate/victim and she was looking to exploit it for as long as she could. Pulling the tip of her tongue so that it would drag across the left side of her mouth, she let out a tired sigh that could have been pilfered straight from the emotional arsenal of all the ditzy blondes whose faces were plastered on the front of nearly every magazine that Kara had spent the last few hours perusing.

"Soooo," Robin slowly began. "Don't you just hate how Superman thinks that he knows everything? I mean, the guy's cool and all with the world-saving and the rescuing kittens from trees but, still, it's like he expects _everybody _to get in line just to tell him that his shit smells like cinnamon and spring time. I mean, just because he can probably juggle planets doesn't mean that he can't make mistakes too!"

"Yup," Kara's offering to the exchange in view points was all but soaked in disinterest, her attention almost exclusively devoted to a recent article published by Dr. Sanjay Gupta that attempted to connect low test scores by American high school students with prolonged periods spent on the Internet.

Steph nodded in the face of her conversational partner's agreement, the Green Lantern seemingly encouraged by the marginal show of support. "I mean, I am really, really glad that you came over onto our side of the fence. Batsie can be a little cold at first but, trust me, all you have to do is work hard and do your best and he'll appreciate you for it." She leaned in until her face was only a foot-and-a-half from Kara's left ear, a deliciously conspiratorial grin on her face as if she was ready to tell her younger comrade a deep, dark secret. "He even said he'll teach me how to fly The Batplane."

"That's nice," Kara answered back with far less enthusiasm, her lone other physical movement coming from when another rogue bang slipped out from behind her right ear and she used her long fingers to sweep it back.

"Lloyd sure is cute, huh?"

"Yeah."

Though the somewhat dreamy, one-word reply may have been little more than an instinctual response spawned by a lazy lowering of the defenses, the aftermath of the minor event was a great deal more tangible. Kara's right hand seemed to launch itself from some unseen spring, the mouse that was once in her hand suddenly flying through the air as it was harshly yanked from its connections with a sharp drag of plastic and electricity. Stephanie, on the other hand, didn't even bother watching the small control device begin its long journey down into the bottom of The Batcave as she paid particular attention to how her new friend's face turned beet red with embarrassment, the blush only made deeper as the young Green Lantern let out a decidedly evil laugh. Then, looking like the canary that had caught the cat, skinned it of its fur, and then hung up the poor, humiliated feline in front of a pack of hungry dogs, she pressed forward.

"Yeahhh, I saw how you were tryin' to make eyes with The Puppy before you chickened out," Steph said with quite a degree of satisfaction as Kara struggled to recover from her humiliation. "Almost as funny as watching Lloyd Boy go completely stupid staring at your legs like that while pussing out at the same time."

"_You were watching us_?" Kara asked with dread, the alarm in her wide, blue eyes only adding more fuel to Stephanie's smirk. "I mean, he's a couple years older than me and. . . and I just got here and. . .," the young woman's babbling started out slightly incoherent and was quickly ratcheting its way toward incomprehensible. "And I barely know him and aren't the guys supposed to ask the girls out and what if he says no and, oh my God, and I don't wanna embarrass myself like that time with the Outsiders when I kissed Nightwing and he got all embarrassed and he didn't know I was just trying to be nice and. . ."

"Woah, woah, woah! Gear down, Kare Bear. Easy with the ands," Stephanie interrupted as she raised a pair of open palms in surrender. "Look, against my better judgment, I'm not even gonna bother asking what you and Nightthing did but, trust me, there's no need to be so nervous. In fact, and don't you dare tell him this or I'll chop your arms off and throw them into a red sun, but Lloyd's a pretty nice guy. That being said, you're probably going to have to be the one to make the first move."

"Hey, it's not that easy!" Kara protested, her realization that she was being talked down to finally summoning her usually impressive wellspring of valor. "And besides, if he's such a great guy then why aren't you with him?"

Stephanie held up two fingers in the face of the incoming anger, her eyes remaining calm and still throughout. "First, it's very easy for a girl to make the first move. All you do is go up to him, make with the soft, doe eyes ('_should be easy for you' _she added to herself with just a hint of bitterness), and say 'Hi. You're cute. You want to go out with me?' As for your question," she went on as Kara stood stock still in fear of such a supposedly simple proposition. "Lloyd may be a nice guy but he's also an emotionally stunted limey with a smart mouth and a heavy duty emotional complex."

Robin pursed her lips at this, the fair-haired Gothamite realizing that she may have just devalued her own argument. "Still, I think you two would be a pretty cute match," she added just so she could seal the deal.

The slow burn Kara had to give to her antagonist provided some pretty solid evidence that she hadn't.

"Gee. Thanks."

* * *

_Istanbul – 10:19 P.M._

Though he was certainly not an expert in the field of reading facial expressions, Noah Kuttler found himself thoroughly convinced that his oldest friend was about to put an end to his foppish façade. As it stood, however, the unhealthy looking combination of Bruce's high, proud cheekbones that was currently helping support his cheerful laugh and the stormy, incensed gleam resonating from his cold, blue eyes made the supposed billionaire letch look like something out of a high-class slasher movie. Even the various bits of eye candy that had accompanied the older and more infirm portions of the world's elite, the ones that had been looking at Bruce as a potentially fresher horizon since the moment he had arrived, were starting to sense the danger in the air as the well made-up faces and cosmetically perfect bodies quickly scooted away from Gotham's favorite son. Heaven help the poor fool who was the target of such thinly veiled ire, such a calculated helping of authoritative fury.

_Particularly so, _Noah couldn't help but think as he batted back the almost overpowering urge to clean his spectacles, _given that the poor fool just happens to be me_.

"Well, if it isn't Noah Kuttler," Bruce said with what Noah supposed to be a careless and jovial air. On the other hand, the oxygen-depriving grip that his oldest friend had on his shoulders and neck as Bruce wrapped his arm around him blunted the expert hacker's optimism quite nicely. "All these unexpected old acquaintances and they're all in the same place at the same time! What are the odds, old buddy?"

"Y. . . yes, yes," Noah stuttered out, the persistent glower that remained in Bruce's eyes leaving him far too timorous to even make a reach for his familiar handkerchief. "It. . . is quite serendipitous. I suppose that. . . that not even a master detective could possibly anticipate such a bizarre happenstance."

How amazing it was that someone searching so diligently to find the precisely right thing to say could then respond with the worst possible series of words.

"Or a computer expert, I imagine," Bruce said with a ridiculously forced air of joviality, the tone in the detective's voice prompting the elder of the two former private schoolboys to feel convinced that five years had just been taken off his life span. "Especially with someone with your kind of connections."

The nervous round of laughter that was all but forced out of The Calculator's lungs sounded quite like a chipmunk chattering away while fleeing away from a hated predator. "Bruce, Bruce, please stop this," he replied, his poor attempts at maintaining his character dissolving completely. "You know how I hate situations like this. I. . . I think I'm suffering a stress-based nosebleed. . ."

"You'll be suffering from a great deal worse if you don't at least have the information you promised," Bruce snarled back through gritted teeth, his performance doubtlessly coming to an end just as hastily.

"Mister Kuttler! What are you doing here?" interrupted an alluring though entirely unwanted voice. As unwanted as it was however, it didn't stop either Bruce or Noah from taking a brief glimpse as Talia Al-Ghul stood in front of them, the leader of The League of Assassins impatiently awaiting a response. Dressed in a simple but stylish royal purple gown that seemed to suit the air of righteous splendor that seemed to radiate from every well-maintained pore, the pleasing blend of her exotic beauty and the strength framed around her stern countenance was worth far more than a cursory glance. Despite her impressive attempt to make herself look untouchable, however, Bruce had more than enough experience in the field of knowing what could be done to render her soft and glorious.

Dangerous. . . impossibly enticing. . .

And Bruce Wayne suddenly discovered that he had to shake his head back and forth just so he could clear the cobwebs.

"Perhaps it would be wise if we took this conversation to somewhere a little more private."

"That's fine by me," Talia whispered back to her beloved with equal resolve. "Go away, Noah."

"Gl. . . gladly," Noah shakily replied, his long legs more than happy to aid him in his quest to shuffle away from the scene as quickly as possible, his hands working together on the instinctual accord of simultaneously reaching for his glasses and handkerchief. Neither of the former lovers watched the hacker's hurried retreat, the both of them now seemingly escorting each other away from the main hall and towards a side corridor. The series of shared steps across the luxurious carpeting and well-crafted marble eventually led the two of them to a picturesque terrace overlooking the Second Courtyard, the balcony lined with well-maintained thatches of sweet-smelling roses and jasmine. Crickets chirped as the bright, half-moon shone above them in the western sky as Bruce and Talia all but stomped onto the old brick that supported the large balcony, the two leaders almost daring each other to meet each other's eyes.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" Talia screeched with a mild degree of outrage as they finally came to a stop. "Surely you must have expected that Luthor would attempt to make his presence here!"

"I have a job to do," Bruce fired back with a strong but quiet roar, the detective determined not to notice that the woman accosting him was threatening to churn his lonely heart into overdrive. "Not just as The Dark Knight but also as Bruce Wayne. You're not the only one who can publicly cast their lot."

"Do you honestly think that this is what this is all about? How dare you think I would have any allegiance for that power-starved brute! I am only doing what I can to ensure the safety of planet!"

"By what? Taking it over?" Bruce fired back, the accusatory tone of his inquiries prompting a flicker of pain t pass through Talia's features. "By placing your finger on the pulse of the world just so you can choose when and where you want to press down?"

"No, by backing the side that is likely to leave this world standing after this war is over!" Talia countered, her steely determination quickly restoring itself despite the temptation put forward by the fire in her beloved's eyes. Still, there were precious few things that could have stopped her from doing whatever she could to claim that passion, to float within that ardor for only a moment, but this was certainly one of them. "True history is made by those who attempt to change things from within, not by those who openly claim that they will try to save or destroy the world!"

Bruce, despite not being the least bit convinced of the nobility behind Talia's intentions, chose to give his former lover the point.

"After all, I imagine that's why you are here to meet The Calculator, is it not?"

The Batman was upon his quarry in an instant, his hands wrapped around Talia's wrists in an unflinching grip. "Does Luthor know?" he asked with a hiss, the instinct to attempt to cover up the truth quickly abandoned. "What do you plan on telling him?" He threatened with a voice that could seemingly cut glass.

The Vanguard of The Demon made no effort to break free from the hold Bruce had on her, the look in her eyes displaying a sympathetic softness that she would show to only a handful of fortunate souls. "You know I won't," she said gently, her tone prompting Bruce to let her go. She tried her best not to shudder as her beloved's hands lingered a second longer on her palms and wrist then they needed to. "I made certain to lead Lex away from the two of you before I came to greet you. Given his fervent need to impress these sycophants, I find it highly doubtful that he witnessed our exchange."

Bruce found he had to put some effort into restraining the half-smirk that threatened to creep upon his otherwise stern countenance, his long-acquired knowledge of Metropolis's second-favorite son providing more than enough proof that Talia's hypothesis was a strong one. However, he chose to remain still as Talia moved away from him, her shapely hips softly swaying left and right with each elegant motion.

"You owe me a dance, beloved."

The master detective was quick to follow. After all, for all his mental discipline and unfettered resolve, there was only so much that a man could take.

* * *

_10:42 P.M._

Given how the already dismal night had been going, Lloyd probably should have suspected that something else was bound to go wrong. After all, he had finally managed to talk himself down from making any further attempts to search for wine, women, or song and had just grown comfortable with settling for a somewhat comfortable evening with his big sister. In fact, his troubled mind had almost come to the conclusion that the evening's festivities could turn out to be somewhat passable rather than an absolute failure of nearly biblical proportions.

Of course, after all the fresh hells that had assaulted him in the previous hours, the young man certainly should have known better. And, if that didn't work, the barely fettered rage that etched itself onto Scandal's face should have been quite the giveaway as the lady mercenary all but dragged him off the dance floor. After wisely choosing to take the high road and not use his telepathy to read his big sister's mind, the 19-year-old Briton chose instead to sweep his eyes over whatever Scandal had been fixated on for the last five or ten seconds. Raising his eyebrows at the nearby scene, he couldn't help but feel more than a little underwhelmed.

"Shouldn't we be doing anything about Lex Luthor doing the meet and greet over there with Gordon Brown?" he asked while continuing to allow himself to be dragged about. "I mean, I imagine that the last thing we need is to let that megalomaniac keep chatting up world leaders. After all, heaven knows what diabolical plans for world ruination that Lex could learn from 'im."

The Black Dog allowed himself a chuckle, the former assassin only mildly perturbed that Scandal didn't seem to appreciate his effort at levity. Deciding that it was just a matter of missing something, he shifted his hazel eyes back towards the buffet table Scandal was stomping towards with him in tow. He supposed that the Phantom of the Opera type mask, even when combined with a simple, black tuxedo, was more than a little suspicious given the otherwise posh air surrounding the proceedings. The long, red hair, despite being wrapped up in a rather untidy ponytail, looked a little too coarse for high society and the odd looks the gentleman was receiving from the surrounding diners seemed to prove that Lloyd was not alone with his thoughts.

"What in the pluperfect hell are you doing here, Merkel?!" Scandal whispered through gritted teeth.

Merkel, in his defense, didn't seem the least bit offended by Scandal's tone. "Isn't this the most wonderfully bewildering of dining experiences, Lady Scandal? Five types of superbly gelatinous goodness, I tell you," the dandy freak added as he scooped another heaving helping of viscous sustenance onto his already overflowing plate. "Small wonder that father was so interested in familiarizing me with high society. Well, before he disowned me and attempted to carve out my intestines."

"Friend of yours, big sister?" Lloyd asked while raising his eyebrows in interest, the never-ending appeal of schadenfreude already causing him to break into a smile.

Scandal briefly turned around to shoot an angry glare back at her little brother, the immortal quietly warning The Black Dog of the potential price of his actions. "Lloyd, this is Peter Merkel Jr.," she explained with as much patience as she could muster. "Peter, this is. . ."

"Lloyd Thomas, a gifted young man somewhat more commonly known as The Black Dog," Merkel replied as he extended a disjointed right arm in a gesture of greeting. "Of course, given the situation, I suppose it would be more appropriate to introduce me as Ragdoll, given our proclivity for colorful _nom de guerres_. Pardon me for the overfull plate, by the way. I've found that such rubbery, consumable liquids do wonders for my cybernetic joints and I apparently allowed my instincts to get the better of me."

If they hadn't already acquired quite a bit of unwanted attention, the sight of Scandal now dragging two men, one in each angrily tensed hand, across the nearly priceless, 18th century Turkish rug helped them acquire another handful of interested onlookers. Thankfully, a brief hint of telepathic masking enabled Lloyd and his companions to avoid any further interest as the leader of The Secret Six escorted them into a side hall. To his credit, it only took a moment for Lloyd to glimpse at Scandal's bulging temples before conducting a telepathic scan to determine if anyone might happen to have some aspirin among their personal professions.

_Or Valium perhaps, _Lloyd couldn't help but think as his big sister seemed to struggle with coming up with the words that could accurately describe her present frame of mind. _Better safe than sorry, after all_.

"Answer the question or I chop your limbs off and mount them over my fireplace," Scandal growled.

Ragdoll shrugged his shoulders while rewarding Scandal's maliciousness with a bright smile. "Now, now, little homicidal petal. There is no need to be so upset. I was merely attempting to follow up my inquiry upon the pet policies of our shared residency. After all, given the joviality of the situation at hand and the abject relief that was on your face when you announced that you were going to meet your 'little brother', I presumed that now would be the most auspicious opportunity to push my fortunes."

The scraggly contortionist then turned his attentions towards Lloyd, the murderer giving the raven-haired Brit a cheery wave. "I must confess that I'm quite experienced in this particular social experience," he said with a buoyant _sotto voce_. "I also had the privilege of escorting my elder sister to numerous formal gatherings. Of course, dear Alex and I never reached the physical plateau that the two of you have reportedly achieved but. . ."

The sound of harsh stomps across the marble floor beneath their feet briefly prompted Lloyd to turn away from the intensely cumbersome scene. A somewhat burly redhead was making their way towards them, the man's muscular frame seemingly squeezed into what was obviously a rental tuxedo that appeared to be several sizes too small for him. There was a desperate look in the fellow's eyes, as if the man was more than ready to either beg for forgiveness or accept a grisly fate, that almost forced The Black Dog to feel sorry for him despite the fact that he had no clue just who the stranger happened to be. Briefly raising his guard as the new arrival skidded between Ragdoll and Scandal, it didn't take long for Lloyd to decide to sit back and watch the scene unfold.

"Oh jeez, oh jeez, oh jeez. Scandal, I am so verysorry that this happened. I tried to stop them!"

"I keep telling everyone that it's just a friendly title." Scandal replied as she all but slammed her right palm against her forehead. "We are not biologically related in any way. . ." The previously spoken series of repentant words then finally managed to sink in, the newfound moment somehow transferring Scandal's wrath from one cowering redhead to the other. "BLAKE?! Why are you here?"

In response, Thomas Blake, a man who had spent the last several weeks going toe-to-toe with some of the worst monsters and contract killers the world over, once again allowed his hunter's instincts to take over. "I tried to stop them. I really did," he all but jabbered out while briefly backpedaling away in a manner that is instinctual to all who have ever adopted the role of "prey". "But by the time I found out what was happening the jet had already been fired up and it was all I could do to make sure they got here without crashing into anything!"

"Oh, dear. Please do not blame dear Thomas for this," Ragdoll replied in response, a genuinely apologetic tone within his otherwise polished delivery. "It appears that we've fallen victim to yet another miscommunication. You see, upon deciding to visit you, sweet Parademon decided to accompany me in order to continue his quest to monitor my well-being. His diligence, in turn, acquired the attention of Mister Lawton, who then chose to accompany us out of some brutish desire to consume as many expensive alcoholic beverages that he could find, and I suppose one thing led to another."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." Scandal interceded, her aching but swift mind allowing her to quickly do the math. "You mean to tell me that you left _Cheshire _alone in my 3,500 square-foot mansion?" she realized, her anxious sights quickly twisting back and forth between Catman and Ragdoll as if she couldn't decide which one of them she wanted to kill first.

As bizarrely amusing as the scene was, however, Lloyd found himself once again tempted to look upon another unexpected visitor. The telepathic glamour was already on the tip of his cerebral cortex but the mere sight of the gorgeous lady looking back at him was quick to place his defenses on the backburner. Though certainly quite the "tall drink of water", to borrow an old saying from his former mentor, the power that seemed to circulate around the beauty's robust, muscular frame appealed to both his human and, well, more demonic instincts. The dark-green cocktail dress that was seemingly molded to the woman's skin certainly didn't hurt matters either, the slit down the middle of the bottom half revealing a glorious amount of long, muscular leg.

_Positively glorious_, Lloyd couldn't help but think as he flashed what he hoped to be an engaging, come hither stare in the direction of the statuesque beauty. _Personally, I prefer something a bit more slender but this is something I can more than appreciate._

For all his ogling, however, it didn't take long for the telepath to realize that something was amiss. Needing only a bit of effort to block out all the bickering going on behind him, he soon realized that the gleaming smile that the tall redhead was proudly sporting was not directed at him in the least. As discouraging as that may have been, however, the promise behind what lay there caused an almost boyish grin to come to his face.

"Oi! Shrew." He interrupted while turning back towards his explosive former partner. "That lady over there's. . ."

"Not now, Lloyd!" Scandal snapped back, the vigilante now in full-on "Mom mode" complete with her hands on her hips and a pair of sheepish looking gentlemen looking on. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

* * *

_10:56 P.M._

As he needlessly guided her through a series of graceful cross hesitations, Bruce couldn't help but think back to some of his first and longest lasting memories of Talia Al-Ghul. Granted, his thoughts had then been riddled with the perfectly logical worries brought about by the situation at the time, namely the kidnapping of his ward in order to provoke a meeting with her megalomaniacal father. However, not even those alarming circumstances could fully blunt the effect that the daughter of Ra's Al-Ghul had on him from the very start.

Much as Dick would have liked to disagree with him on the notion, it wasn't just Talia's physical beauty that had drawn him towards her despite all the lingering warnings put forth by every bit of his instincts as a detective. It was just another part of his overriding tendency to see things in black-and-white, to broadly define everything he encountered in order to place them in easily accessible, comfortable categories only to find that some things were impossible to stay in a single category.

Selina was more than happy to put all her cards down onto the table from the very start. Everything with her was out in the open, even if it took the both of them a while to realize just what the other one was bringing to the competitive match of flirtations and warnings and temptations. She never took any measures to pretend that she was something other than what she already was or chose to be.

Yes, Selina Kyle had made certain to establish that, if he wanted her, then he would have to keep up with the chase. She wouldn't slow down for anyone and she certainly wouldn't change to suit anyone's fancy.

Talia, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. Bruce realized that the moment Ra's chose to demonstrate how he could become his greatest enemy. He could still remember trying his best not to outwardly cringe as Ubu, under his master's order, slammed his meaty right fist into Richard's gut, the harsh blow cracking several ribs and causing a pained wheeze to escape from his ward's lips. He made certain to keep a great deal of his thoughts centered around the smirk on the face of that refined maniac, that arrogant gesture which was solely devoted to the task of ensuring his quarry that he could break him and everyone he knew at a moment's notice. The detective knew that the bald superciliousness was something he could exploit, something that he would consistently be eager to overcome.

The twinge of sympathy and compassion that flickered upon Talia's face was something that had proven to be a great deal more difficult for him to deal with. That fraction of a second, along with dozens upon dozens of others in the 17 years he had come to care for The Daughter of The Demon's Head, continually reminded Bruce of so much of what he had been fighting for since he was a boy crying in that dark, fetid alley alongside his mother and father's cold corpses. He could see the true beauty in her, inside and out, no matter how hard she or her father had attempted to hide it or beat it down. That realization prompted him to think that maybe if he tried a little bit harder, pushed himself harder to show that there was another solution besides the grim inevitability that Ra's had drummed into her thoughts from the moment she was born, then he could save her.

And the fact that she had saved him, salvaged him more times than he would have liked to admit to himself, only made the situation seem even more impossible to crawl away from. Would anyone else have been able to bring him back to Gotham City after the disillusionment he felt as his beloved home was deemed a no man's land? He liked to think that Richard might have been able to do it, possibly even Selina, but Bruce certainly had his doubts. He knew, for better or for worse, that no one was more certain of what he could be than the challenging enigma swaying with him upon the dance floor.

And that's a big reason why he sought perfection. Perhaps that would be enough to unearth the kindness buried within the hard shells that had been forced upon the both of them, the humanity that they were both forced to abandon at the behest of their overseers.

"So which one of us shall play the part of redeemer during this particular difference of opinion?" asked Talia with a familiar drawl, the poised beauty reading her beloved's thoughts without the least bit of difficulty. "Though I recognize your predilection for chivalry and allowing the woman to take the point at her leisure, I must confess that I'm a slightly leery of making the effort under these specific circumstances."

Bruce's blue eyes stayed locked on Talia's jade-green orbs, the two of them once again grappling for control that neither of them would ever give up as they glided across the sprawling dance floor. "Sorry to disappoint you," the detective said darkly, his formerly foolish persona now long forgotten, "but I have enough responsibilities on my plate as it is."

"Do you now? Well, you'll pardon me for being rude but I can scarcely imagine what a free-wheeler like you would have to worry about short of poaching the company of others."

The sputter of fear that momentarily ran through Talia as Lex Luthor made his presence felt caused Bruce's blood to boil, the powerful instinct to defend the woman in his arms becoming extremely difficult to suppress. Reminding himself of the limitations that Bruce Wayne delivered to this kind of situation, the detective was soon able to marshal his will and put on a ridiculously large grin as he turned to face his frequent nemesis.

To his credit, the former President of The United States of America barely looked the least bit perturbed by the suspicious goings on. All that he required was to broadcast a barely perceptible hint of maliciousness from within the confines of his otherwise stern countenance, the clean shaven leader of The Secret Society looking like little more than a predator waiting on his haunches. He was a hunter praying that his prey would rise to the bait, a role that the disgraced billionaire had been more than happy to play dozens of times during his political and professional career.

"Well, I'll admit that I've never had quite the same kind of determination as you have, Luthor," Bruce offered in a well-practiced, "aw shucks" tone that had been nearly completely copied from The Man of Steel's playbook. Just as he had hoped, the comment served both of its purposes, the first made abundantly clear as Lex fired back with a cold glance.

"Now, now, Mister Wayne," Talia countered, the second effect of Bruce's counter quickly making itself felt. "I believe that only a fool would not be able to see the many benefits that Wayne Enterprises and the Martha Wayne Foundation have provided for the less fortunate both in America as well as the less privileged areas of the world."

"Small wonder then that Mister Wayne would then fail to see these vast changes," Luthor calmly countered, the acerbic words causing a growl to rise from the pit of Talia's throat. "Of course, I suppose that there are advantages to having people more intelligent than yourself under your beck and call. You have Lucius Fox to run your corporate empire, the good Mister Hislop can perform the leg work for your so-called philanthropic efforts. . ."

Bruce did his best to appear to look neutral and unknowing of the intentions of his antagonist as the smirk on Luthor's face continued to inch wider and wider.

"And, if all else fails," Luthor added, "you can always seduce a charming lady to sell your rival's financial holdings to you at a fraction of their allotted value."

"And just what integral role have you chosen to play, Mister Luthor?" Talia snapped back while striding forward so quickly that Bruce almost felt compelled to hold her back. "Conductor of one of the least successful presidential reigns in American history? Orchestrator of one of the most shameless commercial expansion projects since the collapse of the Industrial Revolution?" The progressive series of rhetorical inquiries had prompted Luthor to bristle more and more, the series of reactions spurring Talia on. "Or are you referring to your function as the antithesis of a ridiculously cheerful alien who wears his underwear over his head?"

Bruce allowed for a mild hint of concern to run through his otherwise flawless mask of worry as he swerved between the two quarreling debaters. By now the previously chilly glower that Luthor had been sporting was now threatening to turn into a hint of murderous rage fueled by Talia's words. "Now, now. There's no need for arguing like this. This is a celebration, after all. Lex, I would like to apologize if it seemed as if I was infringing on your territory. There's no need for any bad blood. . ."

"Save it, Wayne," Luthor snapped back, the former corporate mastermind shaking off the grip Bruce had on his shoulder with a surprising ease. "Just feel fortunate that you've managed to stumble upon another fool who's chosen to defend you."

Bruce kept his guard up even after Luthor had turned and stalked away from him, the despotic genius doubtlessly off to search for less hostile environments that he could easily hold dominion over. Taking a brief scan of the surrounding environment for any other visible threats, he shifted his body back around and saw the decidedly even expression on the face of his former lover.

"As problematic as that may turn out to be," Talia mused, "I must admit that felt damn good."

* * *

_10:58 P.M._

"Well," Thomas Blake finally concluded while taking a bite out of one of the small collection of appetizers he had just selected from the nearby buffet, "at least we managed to stop her from poisoning our entire water supply."

Lloyd and Scandal both replied with calm nods of agreement as they too began to tuck into the generous portions of food that they had been tempted to gather thanks to the potent combination of hunger and frustration. It may have only taken a handful of seconds for The Black Dog to restrain Cheshire from doing more damage than she already had and just slightly longerfor Catman and Scandal to agree upon having the teleporter drop the assassin off at a convenient holding cell within a particular Chinese embassy but the entire experience had still managed to leave the unlikely trio in need of a little comfort-based sustenance.

"You know, Blake," Lloyd continued on after a hefty swallow. "Nguyen wasn't lying when she said she was preggers. I mean, it's barely into the embryonic stage but. . ."

"I know, I know," Catman replied with more than a bit of dread, the throaty sigh contributed by Scandal adding to the overall subdued atmosphere. "I'd rather not think about that right now." The former big-game hunter wrapped his right hand around his nearby glass of brandy before swirling the half-full glass around as if the amber liquid would provide him some clarity.

"Well, I know we may be a little loathe fer another circumstance," Lloyd said as he caught a familiar flash of red moving closer towards his back. "But it looks like we're about to have a visitor."

Though still wrapped up within their varied states of misery, Scandal and Thomas did manage to look up to see the statuesque, crimson-haired woman from the hallway moving towards them. The confidence blazing through the stranger's eyes prompted the two members of The Secret Six to share a somewhat worried, slightly intrigued glance as the outsider made their way towards them. Lloyd, on the other hand, tried his best not to laugh as Thomas appeared to be ready to scurry from the table in a manner much like his namesake out of fear that the newcomer was making her way towards him.

"Greetings. After witnessing you leaving my sights so quickly, I had grown worried that I wouldn't be able to make my introduction," the redhead began while extending a long, muscular arm, her unique charms now obviously locked upon a single, auburn-haired target. "My name is Kay Reynolds."

"Scandal Savage," came the dim, listless reply, the immortal shaking the woman's hand more out of reflex than from any desire to invoke any interest in a potential conversation. "I'm sorry. Forgive me for being rude but it has been a very long night and I'm not quite in the mood for a conversation."

As quick and blunt as the rejection had been, the stunning woman seemed to take it with a relaxed, almost amused air. "Very well," she relented. "Though I would certainly be interested in helping you find a way to relax, I can understand how one can occasionally need a moment's peace."

And, just like that, Kay had walked away. By the time Scandal had worked up the chutzpah to look back, any potential opportunity of catching a sight of the woman's gorgeous backside had been taken from her by the surrounding crowd.

"Ugh," Scandal mumbled while slumping her head into her folded arms as she momentarily wallowed in her own misery. "Well, I suppose I could take heart in the certainty that there isn't any possible way that this night could get any worse."

As one might have expected, an eerie, pronounced silence suddenly took over the already subdued environment circulating around the table for three. The hush was broken just seconds later as Lloyd dropped his fork onto his plate before burying his face into his hands, the clatter of silver upon glass sounding phenomenally sharp despite the fact that his thumbs were currently clamped over his ears. Thomas, on the other hand, chose to look at Scandal with wide open eyes with such tenacity that it made the former employee of Mao Tenryu want to hide under the table.

"And I can't believe I just said that."

_BOOM!_

The torrid screams of a good percentage of the partygoers were somehow blunted out by the sound of the explosions that followed the first one, the sprays of fire and smoke pouring from the kitchen little more than a portent of what was already going on. A frantic figure leapt from one of the narrower gaps that had formed in the wall, his normally awkward gait becoming even more unwieldy as he threw in a series of hops, leaps and bounds in order to pick up his pace. The sudden need of urgency was soon made clear as a variety of costumed murderers, nearly two dozen in number, soon emerged as they began to follow their current quarry with malicious abandon.

"The Society is among us, my comrades!" Ragdoll screamed as he bounded his way toward the three pained individuals standing up from their table. "To arms! To arms! AND SAVE THE JELLO!"

"Great," Lloyd mused. "After all this fun, I was looking forward to dying."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that, after 11 years and about $50,000 of completely paid tuition, I have finally earned my master's degree. I have emerged from what was certainly a chaotic emerging adulthood and, through a great deal of trial, error, and effort, have managed to achieve one of the most significant dreams that I could ever hope to accomplish.

YESSSSSSSSS!

The bad news is that, well, now I have no real excuse to keep me from being a grown-up.

NOOOOOOOOO!

* * *

_Next Chapter Preview_

All right. So what was supposed to be a simple night on the town has turned into an all-out war between Lloyd, The Secret Six, and The Secret Society of Supervillains. Granted, that's pretty much another Saturday night for this gang but, still, it's got to be more than a little distressing for those involved.

Will Floyd Lawton be able to stop drinking long enough to lend his comrades a hand? Will Ragdoll be able to protect his precious gelatinous fruit products? Will Parademon be able to make certain that no one does, in fact, hurt the clown? Will Lloyd be able to maintain his sanity? Oh, and just what the hell are Bruce and Talia doing in that closet? Find out in the decidedly untidy conclusion to _How to Meet New People_: Seize the Day, Stupid! Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	3. Seize the Day, Stupid!

* * *

Chapter Three

Seize the Day, Stupid!

_Istanbul – Topkapi Palace Main Exhibition Hall – 11:00 P.M._

Though the sight of nearly two dozen rampaging supervillains would most likely never be considered by anyone to be the most relieving of tableaus, the three recently harried individuals that had just chosen to take up squatter's rights at Table 143 took the situation as an outright boon. Of course, even the wonder spawned by the breaking of the tedium certainly had its limits, not the least of which was that two of the three vigilantes under attack were all but prompted to hang on the periphery in order to enter the battle at a more convenient time. After all, the fact remained that the other partygoers, be they innocent or not quite so morally pristine, did have to be ferried away from the theater of war.

So, as The Black Dog drew the battle lines in a closely knit circle around the center of the former dance floor, Catman and Scandal responded with equal quickness to rope in the various members of the Society that drifted at the edges, depriving the despots of the temptation of setting their sights on many of the remaining stray boozehounds, dignitaries, and sycophants. The Lamentation Blades that had been quickly strapped to Scandal's forearms caught the glint of the hanging lights of the centuries-old chandelier above her head as they dug into the shoulders of the assassin known as Pistolera while Catman occupied his time by scraping his own titanium talons through the throat of the mutated former wrestler known in Gotham as Killer Croc. Blake wisely chose not to pay a whit of attention as the bloodthirsty beast fell to the floor in the aftermath of his precise attack, the monster's enhanced constitution enabling him to stave of death as he gurgled several pints of blood onto the luxuriantly carpeted floor.

Meanwhile, a combination of rapid fire teleportations and precise lashes of the _Mugalshir_ had helped transform The Black Dog from a ridiculously feeble social wallflower into a tuxedo-sporting maelstrom of destruction. Granted, one might have been significantly concerned about dealing with someone who took such pleasure and stability in finding the most efficient of nonlethal means of taking down someone with a mystically empowered silver saber but it appeared that neither Scandal nor Blake were interested in voicing such apprehensions.

"_All right, and who is this?" _Lloyd asked calmly while the person in question greeted him by sending 50,000 volts of electricity burning into his back. Had his lungs not been in the process of momentarily shutting down, The Black Dog may have laughed at how the maneuver had worked against his opponents twofold. Not only did the blast of energy cause Lloyd's other bloodthirsty opponents to scatter away for fear of being caught up in the electric nimbus but his extensive energy absorption skills also allowed him to literally soak up the energy and add it to his already impressive reserves. At the end of it all, the only real damage was the suit jacket that turned to ashes at his back and, hey, it's not like either he or Alfred had much appreciation for it.

"_Leslie Willis, also known as Livewire," _Scandal replied through the telepathic network that Lloyd had hastily established between herself and Thomas as she continued to move and secure the perimeter. _"Another one of Superman's villains, I believe."_

"_That's nice_," The Black Dog said rather succinctly while focusing a familiar portion of his demonic energies in swatting aside the blue-skinned murderess with a telekinetic force bolt. Momentarily deprived of her ionic energy, the pulse of energy struck Livewire and vaulted her backwards as if she had been launched by a catapult. The fact that his newfound missile had crashed into a trio of Society members on her way out was just icing on the cake for the half-demon, the smirk on his face continuing to grow stronger in the wake of the bloodcurdling wail that sprang from Aaron Helzinger's lungs as he used his saber to slice through the Achilles tendons of the rampaging beast more commonly known as Amygdala.

"_You know, little brother. I can't help but notice," _Scandal continued while letting loose with a warning lash of the blade strapped to her right hand that came dangerous close to slicing through the eyes of Manbat, _"that you're being downright merciful, particularly given the way the night has been going_."

The Black Dog did his best to avoid letting out a derisive snort as he struck the advancing Baron Blitzkrieg square in the jaw with a leaping kick. _"Well, I did promise the boss that I wouldn't kill anyone_," he countered while continue to lay into the reeling Teutonic power monger with a series of body blows before firing an uppercut that sent his foe crashing harshly into the ceiling above. _"The struggles of being a team player, I suppose."_

"_Awwwww_," Scandal cooed back while knocking the wind out of her feral foe with a stern kick to the gut. _"Really, little brother. That is just wonderfully cute_."

"_Yeah. All heart, I __**ack**__!"_

The Society's first successful attack on The Black Dog finally landed home as the force of the successful punch sent Lloyd flying away from the center of the dance room and crashing through the eastern hall, the potentially bone-shattering impact raising a cloud of dust as broken plaster rained down on his head. As he took the half-second he needed to get much of the constructional backwash out of his hair, his hazel eyes were sharp enough to catch a blur of yellow and green springing at him with obviously lethal intentions. The quick teleportation to his foe's back was almost performed as an afterthought, the evasionary tactic causing the force of his antagonist's punch let out a shockwave that cracked or outright shattered several of the surrounding marble and copper statues. Weathering the wave of kinetic energy with relative ease, the raven-haired mind reader was able to make out some lingering vestiges of raged and racist thoughts as he swamped the man's neurons with no less than a blitzkrieg of telepathic energy.

"What is it with all the Nazis tonight?" Lloyd couldn't help but ask himself as Captain Nazi fell to his knees in agony, the anguish of the longtime foe of Captain Marvel hastily cut short with a well-practiced palm strike to the occipital ridge. "Rule Britannia, ya sot," The Black Dog spat back to his unconscious quarry before rushing to return to his place on the battlefield.

Of course, even the few seconds that The Black Dog had been away could have been quite perilous for Lloyd's compatriots, particularly for the all-too-human master tracker that had been busying himself with waylaying one Society member after the other. Quickly recognizing that he was suddenly without his high-powered backup, he started things off with a harsh but well-placed left hook that quickly sent Murmur down in an unconscious heap, the momentum of the forceful strike quickly enabling Thomas Blake to push his body into a strong vertical leap that allowed him to avoid the blindside charge of the former Spetsnaz assassin known as KGBeast. Though the cybernetically enhanced hit man would have most certainly had the advantage in a simple one-on-one encounter, Catman had made sure to employ the many lingering distractions that only a chaotic field of battle could provide as he continued to allow the various Society members to get in each other's way. Wrapping his strong legs around the mercenary's neck as his foe passed beneath him, Blake twisted his body sharply to the left as he drug KGBeast to the ground. A quick series of claw swipes to the back of the big Russian's head was more than enough to render the hit man unfit to continue the fight, the man quickly coming more concerned with stopping his own bleeding than to continue to try and do him any harm.

"Stand still, ya hoppy little freak!"

Astonishingly enough, Catman refused to follow the harshly worded advice as Clayface (and, no, he wasn't about to try and figure out which Clayface this happened to be) attempted to turn him into a hastily made smear on the carpet with the aid of his enormous, elongated arms. Dodging the furious strike by a matter of inches thanks to a brisk dive across the carpet, Blake couldn't help but spy the splinters of wood flying over his head from the impressive impact as he struggled to find the time he would need to get to his feet. It dawned upon him that his chances of dodging the strike to come were slim to nil but the least he could do was get himself in a decent enough place to try. Fortunately, just before the recently made sickle blade serving as Basil Karlo's left arm could punch its way through his chest, a blast of silver energy crashed into the shape shifter's massive back and sent him hurtling away.

"_Sorry for me absence," _Lloyd said as he made his return, The Black Dog's hazel eyes quick to spot which of his comrades was in more pressing danger. "_And are you trying to get yourself naked?"_

"_No_," Catman hissed back, the muscle-bound redhead already on the lookout for someone or something else that he somewhat safely attack. _"All this movement is popping the seams of this damn rental tux."_

"_Yeah, this posh getup doesn't really serve itself as suitable fighting gear_," Lloyd agreed. _"That bein' said, I can't help but notice that you seem to be targetin' a lot of The Bat's enemies."_

Catman didn't even bother turning back to meet Lloyd's brief but suspicious glare as he rushed to do battle with the recently arriving Maxie Zeus.

"_Well, it's as good a way as any to take out your frustrations."_

* * *

_11:03 P.M._

After tasking some time to observe the various humans either try to flee for their lives or claim the lives of whomever they could, the lone figure that had chosen to remain still throughout the bedlam finally made her decision. Taking a moment to briskly move to a nearby table in order to snag a bottle of champagne, the figure let out a hearty laugh before moving to down a third of the bottle with a series of heady swallows before throwing the decanter aside. She made certain to relish the taste and texture of the cool, effervescent liquid streaming down her throat while making her way over to what she had quickly decided to be the source of her declaration.

The aggrieved fellow, to his credit, was employing far more wisdom and good sense than the majority of his comrades. He even had the presence of mind to catch her advancing upon him out of the corner of his eye while continuing to wait patiently on the outskirts in an effort to find the best way to ensnare the black-haired half-demon who continued to stand firm in the center of all the chaos. It was rather clear that the frustration on her comrade's face had a great deal to do with the speed and fluidity with which the boy moved about while demonstrating a knowledge of battle that clearly belied his age.

_It was clear that I judged the half-breed too quickly_, she realized while creeping closer and closer to her prey. _In fact, given the closeness between the boy and my future prize, perhaps it would be wise to see if Lady Savage would be interested in taking on a slave. _

Realizing the wisdom in getting her priorities in line, Knockout ceased the unlikely possibilities as she came within punching range.

"How dare you impugn my honor as a warrior!"

As drawn as he was to the escalating battle, Ewan McCulloch couldn't help but turn away in order to respond to the bizarre accusation. "Wot the hell are ya goin' on 'bout, ya daft berk," the mercenary known as The Mirror Master spat back, his thick Scottish brogue dominating the woman's ears despite the noise of the lingering combat. "Can't ya see I'm lookin' fer a canny shot 'ere?"

Knockout could have imagined that such a vociferous response was perfectly justifiable in stressful times such as these. Conversely, it was also safe to say that the scarlet-haired former Fury wasn't the least bit interested in being rational about this current state of affairs. Drawing in Mirror Master's attention with a vicious, toothy grin, the Apokoliptian powerhouse quickly stretched her long arms forward in order to snatch the all-too-human Society member within a painful shoulder lock, the force of her grappling causing McCulloch's left arm to quickly become bent at a decidedly unhealthy looking angle.

"I have had it with the pathetic, pitiable men within this so-called Society," Knockout declared to no one in particular, her bellow coursing over both the cracking of some of the smaller bones in The Mirror Master's devastated limb as well as the sound of the screams that came because of them. "All of you constantly attempting to enforce your false superiority while simultaneously leering at my body as if it was yours to take. On my pride as a warrior tempered upon the hell pits of Apokolips, I will not tolerate this treatment any longer."

Knockout made certain not to put too much force into the punch that sent Mirror Master on a quick trip down to the carpeted floor. After all, McCulloch was easily the most tolerable companion within the regiment that she had been forced into by that loathsome Al-Ghul woman and she truly did not wish any harm for the fragile little Earthling. Still, the fact remained that her previous ship had sailed and she had been more than happy to use the former drug addict to abandon it at her leisure.

_And besides,_ she added while dashing toward her newest quarry, _here is metal more attractive_.

The fact that the auburn-haired warrior was engaging in battle with Barbara Minerva provided Knockout with an unexpected bonus, namely the opportunity to spill the blood of another loathsome Earthling. The appeal of it all but forced her to enthusiastically hurtle her muscular frame straight into the mad murderess known as Cheetah, the bone-crunching impact sending the both of them rolling across the floor in a tangle of long, sinewy limbs. The two rabid warriors soon broke free of each other, however, and the anger that burned in Cheetah's amber-colored eyes was a clear indication that the longtime foe of Wonder Woman was clearly both shocked and angered by the recent events.

"What do you think you're doing?" Cheetah asked Knockout with a seething hiss. "Can't you see that I was enjoying my hunt?"

Knockout fired back a confident smirk directed only partially towards her nearly feral antagonist. "My apologies, Miss Minerva," she replied without the least bit of repentance, "but only I will have the privilege of devouring Miss Savage on this blood-soaked evening."

* * *

_11:04 P.M._

As she unwillingly took a moment to witness the sight of the possibly insane but certainly striking flirt begin to go punch-for-talon with one of the strongest fighters on the battlefield, Scandal found herself almost frustrated with the fact that it took her just a little bit too long to turn her eyes away and focus on a more important sight. Or at least something more integral to her survival than the curve of Kay Reynolds' hips, anyway.

"_Think we should give Ragdoll a helping hand?"_

Scandal was almost grateful for Lloyd's telepathic inquiry (and also quite appreciative that her little brother had chosen not to speak about her previous misbehavior).

"_Thank you for the concern but I doubt it will be necessary_," the leader of The Secret Six silently replied as she flung the steak knife she had taken from her table straight through the right eye socket of Chronos, the messy meeting of flesh and steel leaving the time traveler's efforts to slow her big brother down to come to an almost immediate halt. _"I have long discovered that Merkel tends to be rather cockroach-like in situations such as these."_

The Black Dog, out of interest in keeping everyone as safe as possible, decided to let it go at that. Besides, if he needed any further evidence pertaining to Ragdoll's ability to survive on his own, he would only need to take a glance at the long buffet table where the poisons expert known as Skorpio was currently letting loose a horrified scream while being dragged under the large slab of oak by a long, scraggly arm. The tri-bladed katar strapped to the scarred limb seemed to give off a dangerous glint as it faded from sight as if the menacing daggers were almost anxious to be put to a grisly use.

* * *

_11:05 P.M._

"DON'T HURT THE CLOWN!!"

Floyd Lawton couldn't help but roll his eyes in response to his backup's choice of battle cries while calmly employing his wrist-strapped revolvers to put two bullet-sized holes straight into the center of Quakemaster's forehead. It had taken longer than he had liked to find the source of the brouhaha but, now that he had, the sharpshooter was more than eager to vent the frustration he had garnered during a relatively unsuccessful trip through the museum's wine cellar. Keeping a safe grip on his half-finished cigar with the aid of his slightly clenched teeth, he quickly found something else to kill as his well-placed shots quickly tore through the throats, lungs, skulls and hearts of each and every Multiplex clone he could find.

"Now this here is entertainment!" Deadshot proclaimed as he felled one copy of Danton Black after the other. "Blow off one head and two more take its place!" Much to his surprise, his propensity to position his shots was not the least bit hindered by the slightly-too-big-for-him tuxedo that he had shamelessly pilfered from Blake's closet. "Wonder if I get a giant ass panda if I shoot 50 of 'em in a row?"

As fate would have it, however, Lawton's attempt to discover the answer to this particular conundrum was quickly cut short as a mass of gray and red flew in front of eyes at a phenomenally distracting rate of speed. Although he would have never admitted it to anyone, the hardened gun-for-hire needed a handful of seconds to recover from such an indistinct but still jarring sight and even more time to recognize that the bizarre projectile passed by him from the side rather than from the front or rear. Managing to hurriedly put two-and-two together, he turned to see the somewhat bewildered look on his compatriot's face as he cradled the other half of the recently departed King Shark. The green and black blood was still streaming from the creature's pelvis and had quickly gone to work soaking the already dirty fighting togs of the former soldier of Darkseid.

"Mister Lawton," the strongman of The Secret Six said in a nearly mournful manner, "I think I broke the fishie."

"God damn it, Parademon," Lawton spat back while taking several quick sidesteps in order to avoid staining both his own evening wear as well as the bottle of Jack Daniels strapped into a previously unused arm holster. "Quit fartin' around. There's some serious shit goin' down here!"

* * *

_11:07 P.M._

While choosing the personality traits that his foppish alter ego would display to the public, Bruce Wayne had made certain that the skill to run away quickly and efficiently from any sign of danger happened to be near the top of that carefully concocted list. At the very least, it enabled him to retain the image of a cowardly fool while simultaneously enabling him to guide whoever he needed to through the safest way out of any crisis situation. The scent of smoke and ozone continued to pervade the detective's nostrils even after the evening air around the Third Courtyard drifted into his senses, the combined stimuli eagerly fueling his instinct to rush to the aid of his allies to the point where it threatened to overpower him.

It was the stern look on Talia's face that helped pull him back on track. While Bruce had tied his own hands and forced himself to lead by example, she had quickly put it upon herself to provide the vocal instructions for the plethora of confused and frightened bystanders. Her unyielding orders had easily rang over the series of explosions and tremors stemming from the main hall, the authority in her tones and mannerisms rivaling even the sternest of field generals as she led them on the way out. He managed to take in some of the brief glances that she had sent his way during their journeys through the long, luxuriant halls, at least to the extent where he could see the fleeting and instinctual nature of those cautious flickers.

That being said, Bruce didn't even know why he suddenly decided to make eyes with a stunning, blonde-haired starlet who appeared to be cruising quickly down the road to fear-spawned hyperventilation, a charming grin appearing on his superficial countenance. "Well, now that we've gotten away from those nasty fellows, perhaps I could get your number. Or maybe lend you a little hand in getting some oxygen back into those lungs?"

And, for some reason, the dirty glare Talia had to give back to him made Bruce feel just a little bit better. However, it hadn't taken long for the man behind The Batman to complete his next objective, the veteran actor quickly sweeping his sharp, blue eyes across the premises in order to draw a bead on one Noah Kuttler. The hacker was standing a good 20 feet away from him, the bespectacled computer expert apparently doing what he could to comfort an old woman who had most likely been working in the kitchens shortly before The Society had decided to truly make their presence felt. Bruce kept his glare on the surprisingly calm fellow until The Calculator was able to notice him, the calm look in his eyes sending his old friend a fairly clear but silent message of what he needed for him to do. Thankfully, nearly 25 years of off-and-on communications provided enough experience for Wayne and Kuttler to get their wires straightened and the wiry spy responded with a timid series of nods before racing toward the front and center of the courtyard.

"All right, everyone! Please remain calm!" The Calculator exclaimed with a forceful timbre that only a small percentage of those who knew him would think him to be capable of. It had only taken a smattering of seconds before he had gathered the attention of everyone that had managed to escape, the united decision giving Bruce a healthy opening to return to the battlefield without gathering the attention of his fellow absconded guests. "I have been informed that everything is under control and that the safest thing for us to do is to leave the grounds in a quick but orderly manner!"

_Thank you, _Bruce silently replied while pushing his long legs forward in smooth and rapid strides that brought him quickly through the inner half of the courtyard and closer towards the second floor room where The Black Dog had been ordered to place a spare cape and cowl several hours before their scheduled arrival. The latest telepathic update had informed him that the situation was strenuous but still fairly manageable, a state of affairs that The Dark Knight of Gotham City knew he could improve upon with the right bit of quick preparation. Perhaps it was that determination to help do what he could that momentarily blinded him from the unexpected assault awaiting him as he turned for the side stairwell, the unexpected presence forcing him to twist his hips just so he could land safely on the floor. The weight of his attacker, as slight as it may have been compared to his considerable bulk, was soon distributed just so in order to restrict his movements as much as possible, his seeker seemingly determined to make certain that they could keep him where he was.

Bruce could feel himself kissing back even before his mind was able to catch up with the rest of his body, the familiar scent of jasmine rousing his impulses and overcoming his defenses with disturbing ease. The feelings wrought by those deceptively strong hands coursing through his hair and pressing down on his torso was quick in taking the fire around his heart that had been bubbling for nearly two decades and once again threatened to transform it into a frightening conflagration that he knew he could barely control. His larger, stronger hands responded in kind, his coarse fingers briefly running through that long, black hair before snaking lower in order to skim his fingertips across his captor's exposed back like a master pianist would direct a long-cherished instrument.

For just a few precious, horrific seconds, the fears of a hopeless, lifelong struggle faded away to be replaced by. . . something he couldn't quite place. What was it? Hope? Warmth? Possibility?

"I apologize for that," Talia said softly while pulling herself away, her usually confident manner momentarily tinged with a palpable nervousness. She seemed to be having trouble regaining her breath, an odd circumstance given that she was at the pinnacle of physical health. "I just. . . I had to make things clear."

Bruce found himself breathing hard as well, his efforts to restore air to his lungs hindered only slightly by Talia's body straddled upon the upper half of his abdomen. "What. . . what are you talking about?" he asked in a slight daze, his breaths beginning to rise and fall in a near tandem with his former lover.

Talia took a second to consciously swipe away the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her left eye, her lips momentarily narrowing as she continued to baldly display her anxiety. "I have spent so long witnessing the dark and lonely travels you have chosen to endure, Bruce. I have bore witness to your grandest failures and have been heartbroken by your suffering. I've seen your successes and have felt hope in the few slivers of happiness you allow yourself to take." She couldn't help but speak slowly and with the utmost care as if she were desperately determined not to get a single thing wrong. "Please let me travel that road with you, if only so we may better see where it leads."

It was official. Bruce Wayne was dead. Not a single bone was out of place nor were any muscles seemingly under the slightest bit of undue strain but there was simply no other explanation for the numbness that seemed to invade every bit of him. It started in his stomach and crept up to his heart with alarming speed as the realization of what had been offered and the finality and truth that came with it simply too much for him to endure.

"Please!" Talia remained still even as the rogue curls had long fallen back to their unwanted resting place, the curtain of black doing little to hide the need that was shining from her gorgeous green eyes. "I assure you. Just ask me and I will say yes."

Bruce knew he could overcome this. He had done so a thousand times over in the hopes that he would be a better man for it, a person who could do more for everything he had come to love or desire to protect. Only a fool would have been unable to realize just how much could have been solved with just a single word, a single, definitive action. Of course, the myriad of possibilities developed by just that single moment was too much for him to anticipate and far, far too much for him to plan for.

There was so much that could go wrong. Or was it too much that could go right? It really didn't matter either way, did it?

Of course, he couldn't help himself but watch as his silence sunk into Talia's thoughts, the realization that she had gone for everything and ended up with nothing prompting her to scurry back into her carefully constructed shell. As she lifted herself back to her feet, there was a fraction of a second, just as he was hefting himself up, where the leader in Talia wasn't quite yet fully in control. That flicker nearly prompted the words lodged in the back of his throat to come rushing to the surface and the urge to rush forward and hold this woman in his arms, if only to protect her from everything the world could throw at them, to nearly overwhelm him. But Bruce Wayne had long conditioned himself to learn how to keep such whims in check.

That was what made him who he is, after all.

"The Society's numbers are growing by the day," Talia warned him faintly. "Even with your undercover assistance, it is highly unlikely that your forces will be able to survive an extended series of direct encounters."

The Batman could accomplish little more than a nod before dashing up the nearby staircase. He couldn't look at what he had just left behind.

More importantly, he just had to get away from the silence.

* * *

_11:10 P.M._

The youngest daughter of Vandal Savage had been privy to a great many things during her handful of decades as a warrior. Her many travels had enabled her to lock horns with primordial beasts wrought from the backwaters of human evolution, clash with extraterrestrial beings spawned from the very corners of The Milky Way, and wage war with supernatural creatures that were willing to sacrifice hundreds of lives just for the opportunity to claim the lives of her and those that fought alongside her. She had been able to bear witness to rips within the space-time continuum, smell the gunpowder and burnt sand upon the beaches of Normandy as millions of souls around the world did battle for a simple patch of land, and had the unique honor of being the sole living audience member of the inaugural game of "Anything You Can Do. . ." as created by Lloyd Thomas and Vincent Culp.

This night, however, was somehow turning out to be something for the books.

"Do you hear your heartstrings singing within the glory of this battle?" Kay asked her with a vicious smile while pounding away at the left side of Monseiur Mallah's head with her unencumbered fist. "Tell me that you don't feel the heat coursing through your veins! Let me have the opportunity to drink in your passion, my poppet."

Scandal was quick to turn away before her eyes could get any wider or the blush blooming on her cheeks could somehow go and take over the rest of her body. As she lashed out the talons on her left hand at a Society member she couldn't quite recognize, she gratefully managed to catch sight of Lloyd and Thomas as they moved around the center of the dance floor. The two of them were playing a familiar game of "Long and Short", an exercise that she had herself developed during her first few weeks of working with The Black Dog. As she expected, Catman appeared to have little problems with playing her old role to perfection, the red-haired hunter moving in quick and close in order to slash at Jinx, Shimmer, and Mammoth with his razor-sharp claws while Lloyd kept him fairly well protected from anything the beleaguered trio could throw back at him. Although her little brother was simultaneously burdened with the task of staving off the attacks of Psimon and Sabbac, the leader of The Secret Six was still fairly confident that her comrades had that particular situation well in hand.

Continuing to monitor her surroundings, she found herself somewhat surprised to discover that Ragdoll had chosen to flee from his former hiding place in favor of scurrying over to Deadshot's side of the battlefield. The scraggly haired freak was currently crawling next to Lawton's leg, the contortionist wisely choosing to stay well underneath the rapid amounts of gunfire spewing forth from the sub-machine guns that the sharpshooter had giddily liberated from KGBeast. Of course, while Deadshot seemed to be absorbed with causing as much mayhem as possible, Parademon was outright relieved to be reunited with his friend, so much so that the former soldier of Darkseid happily waded into Lawton's gunfire just to provide better protection for his beloved clown.

Yet another vociferous _KEEERRASH _sounded out through the battlefield, this time from the southeastern edge of the ceiling where the dance hall bordered the edge of the First Courtyard. Though it didn't take long for her to determine the source of all the recent destruction, the realization that there was little that she could do to prevent the new arrival from doing any further damage caused her eyes to widen in alarm.

The black-and-yellow blur that emerged from the wreckage stood still for just a moment, if only to observe the bizarre and unwanted goings on. That brief instant allowed Scandal to properly take in the simmering rage on the face of the god that had arrived in their midst, the noble but vicious beast taking but a moment to determine just which of his hated opponents would be brutally taken care of first.

"_Lloyd! MOVE!" _Scandal finally screeched with a psychic hiss as The Lord of Kahndaq moved quickly to his self-appointed task of tearing Deadshot and Ragdoll limb from limb. The fraction of a second between order and response seemed to stretch painfully long for her as the center ring of the battlefield was suddenly robbed of its star attraction, the gap only widened with the realization that her latest move had left Thomas in quite the vulnerable state. Her rush to guard Catman left her unable to look on as The Black Dog crossed Black Adam's path, the collision between the two most powerful creatures on the battlefield resulting in a shockwave that sent nearly every soldier on both sides tumbling to the ground. Serving tables were tossed haphazardly against the walls, glass and silverware hurtled through the air like kindling within a whirlwind, and a loud round of laughter sounded off from where Knockout chose to observe the mayhem with a warrior's glee.

Though her apparent suitor appeared to be at least somewhat pleased by the goings on, it would take quite a bit more for Scandal to be rid of the tension she felt as both Adam and Lloyd faded away from sight. That moment was quick in coming, however, as The Black Dog reemerged, the British half-demon looking fairly hale and hearty despite apparently being soaked to the bone. The smell of salt water hung thick in her nostrils as Lloyd briefly traveled the hectic skies before settling back to the ground and standing at her back. A quick shaking of the young man's head and hair may have caused her to be mildly sprinkled with the rank souvenirs gathered during her little brother's voyage but Scandal discovered that she was a bit too relieved to care.

"And just where did you run off to?" Scandal asked aloud while telepathically ordering Thomas to make his way over towards Lawton's group.

"Oh, around," Lloyd cryptically replied while employing his telepathy to once again liberate the _Mugalshir _from the clutches of its scabbard, a slight smile emerging on his face as he prepared to fight alongside his old partner once again.

* * *

_11:13 P.M._

"Oh, goodness!" Ragdoll exclaimed as his mask was suddenly sullied with a splatter of black blood. "Sweet Parademon, I do believe that your grisly attire is now simply damaged beyond repair," the dandy man observed while looking for something else to sink his blood-soaked katars into, his quest made a great deal more difficult as his burly comrade continued to batter combatants aside with an almost childlike merriment.

"Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if one of us didn't keep 'accidentally' shooting him!" Catman threw in as he reluctantly continued to watch the back of a certain smirking sharpshooter.

"Aw, go shit in yer litter box, Blake," Deadshot fired back while making good use of the hand cannon that The Black Dog had previously torn from Red Panzer's left arm with the aid of his saber. The burst of tangible, superheated photons that spat from the barrel of the massive firearm scattered several of the surrounding Society members like ten pins, particularly the surrounding Neo-Nazis who were trying desperately to claim vengeance for their latest fallen leader. "The big fucker's still got a smile on what's left of his face, doesn't he? Mikey likes it!"

The righteous complaint at the tip of Catman's tongue was suddenly cut short as he and Lawton were suddenly brushed aside by an enormous arm constructed of living iron. Making certain to spring himself off of Deadshot's prone body as quickly as he could, the newest member of The Secret Six had just enough time to take a brief look at the massive mound of human-looking metal clambering its way towards them.

"Huh, I don't even recognize this one," Deadshot declared as Girder quickly came within striking distance.

The tenuous moment ground into a quick halt as a flurry of sealed Dewar flasks crashed into the Society member's massive back. The pale, blue cloud that rose from the source of the impact quickly caused Girder to scream and flail away at his unseen attacker, his barely controlled movements quickly slowing in velocity and vigor as the effects of the liquid oxygen quickly took hold. The sound of a familiar cape ruffling in the wind provided Blake and Lawton with another clue to determine the identity of their unexpected savior with further elucidation being provided as a familiar figure rammed his feet into their hunter's back. The drag provided by his familiar zip line allowed Batman to land a strike that was soft enough to prevent any lingering damage from what was little more than an indirect crash into rapidly rusting steel but was also stern enough to cause Girder to tumble to the floor.

As was his way, The Dark Knight did not spare any extraneous moments to observe either his fallen foe or the people he had just rescued. Of course, this was the first time that either of the two Secret Six members had been able to witness this phenomenon from this particular perspective and the both of them couldn't help but be a little stymied by it.

"Gee, Blake. How come you can't do stuff like that?"

"Shut up!"

* * *

_11:14 P.M._

"There's hardly any reason to jump to a conclusion now," Knockout reasoned with her newfound partner as they continued to fight back-to-back. "I can understand your reluctance for such a role but I believe I've lived long enough on your world to recognize that your people, when prompted, will be more than happy to engage in such practices. Perhaps it is simply a matter of keeping your interests open."

"Knockout, I'm begging you," Scandal broke in while her little brother accosted her with a playful smirk. "_Please_ quit offering to make a sex slave out of my little brother."

"_Now hold on there, Shrew," _Lloyd countered. _"Just because you may not be interested in 'er doesn't mean I can't have my bit of fun."_

As frustrated as she could have been, the auburn-haired immortal couldn't help but let out a spurt of laughter as she took in the utter absurdity of it all. _"And who said I wasn't interested?"_

The brash rejoinder prompted Lloyd to raise his eyebrows while letting loose a telekinetic force bubble that tossed their remaining handful of available opponents up into (and, in some cases, through) the already crumbling roof. _"Still got that headache, sis?"_

"_Not remotely._" The toothy grin she fired at her two stronger comrades faded only slightly as she noticed more and more Society members, dozens in number, began to pour through many of the apertures created by the skirmish. _"And, with the arrival of this second wave, I think it's high time that we cut our losses."_

"_Very well, then_," Lloyd quickly replied while briefly scanning the room for everyone he would have to gather. _"And just how many people will be joining us on this little group retreat?"_

Scandal needed only a moment to take a glimpse of the positively hungry look in Knockout's eyes. Interestingly enough, the once powerful desire to turn away from the intensity she found there was suddenly nowhere to be found.

"_Six, Black Dog. That is, if your boss would feel comfortable spending time with a bunch of misfits and ne'er do-wells."_

* * *

_Kirklareli – Sparagmosia - 11:42 P.M._

It was probably quite prudent that The Batman had chosen to remain silent while witnessing what passed as the celebration of his erstwhile comrades. Bottles of _raki _were already starting to litter the surface of the round table the vast majority of them had clustered around. Deadshot continued to divide his time between drinking as much of the anise-flavored beverage as he could find and complaining that said liquid didn't have enough of a kick. Catman, Lloyd, and Ragdoll had thankfully chosen to adopt a slower drinking pace, although the detective couldn't help but notice that Blake seemed to quickly be finding more and more appeal in the idea of drinking away his troubles. Parademon, on the other hand, after requiring little time or energy to complete the accidental task of frightening away the other denizens of the dilapidated kafana, was currently attempting to turn the withered bar table he had taken over into his own personal drum set, the gray-skinned extraterrestrial looking not the least bit perturbed as the liquor bottles he used as drumsticks continued to break on a fairly frequent basis.

"So you're gonna be a somewhat proud poppa, huh?" Deadshot asked his comrade to his left, the unwanted inquiry prompting Catman to slump further down into his chair. "Well, I've got two points of advice for ya, buddy. First, please get yourself checked up 'cause there's no way that you could have fiddled with that well without drawin' up something you really don't want and second. . ." The sharpshooter allowed himself a moment to take in the glare thrown his way by Batman before battening down his rising fear with a puff of his cigar. "Under no circumstances are you allowed to name your kid Cheshire Cat."

"Ugh," Blake replied with an expected degree of eloquence, the fatigued former rival of Batman slumping himself down until his forehead all but slammed against the surface of the cluttered table.

"Well, all that bein' said, I've got to confess that this was hardly the night on th' town I was anticipatin'," Lloyd admitted while giving Knockout a careful look of appraisal, his intentions a great deal more noble than what they were before. "Still, I suppose the lot of us did get a little bit of good work in."

"I doubt the Society will agree with your opinion of what happened," Scandal said sternly while nursing her own bottle of spirits. "They'll be coming after both our groups with even greater urgency now, if only so that they can save face for those who are still on the fence about joining their cause."

"More's the pity that I was not allowed to introduce Mister Luthor to my own sterling silverware," Ragdoll added, his disjointed left arm still strapped with the katar that he had employed to eviscerate Ibac the Bloody. "Although I must confess that the greatest crime of the evening was the utter waste of all of that lovely gelatin. Honestly, it infuriates me how otherwise well-tempered marauders can be so utterly careless around fine cuisine."

Scandal once again ignored the observations of the most psychotic member of her motley crew, a practice that she had honed in the handful of weeks she had been forced to endure the company of the posh maniac. As she allowed the others to give Merkel a series of odd looks in her stead, she chose to stretch her unencumbered left hand in order to clasp the hand of her newfound company. A warm smile rose onto her tanned cheeks as Kay accepted the offer while countering with her own quiet but forceful gaze. The thoughts of what Scandal expected to receive in the brief future caused her lips to stretch further and higher, the longtime mercenary curiously giddy by the successes of what she had once thought to be a dismal evening.

"_Well, she doesn't appear to have any intention on reportin' back to her former mates," _Lloyd informed his big sister through their long-established telepathic link. _"That bein' said, you sure you want to just jump into somethin' like this? I mean, 's not really like you, Shrew."_

Scandal, feeling quite touched by the genuine showing of concern, briefly turned away from her newfound paramour in order to give The Black Dog a gentle smile. _"Perhaps that is where the problem lies, little one. After all, would I have come to know you if I had simply told Mao that I did not wish to work with someone new? Would we still care for each other today if we had not gone through everything we've been forced to endure?"_

Lloyd briefly opened his lips as if he wanted to say what was on his mind. However, after a heavy handful of seconds, the young man chose to let his hesitations lie. _"Just be happy, Shrew. And remember, I've always got your back."_

"_Likewise, Black Dog." _Scandal replied with equal certainty.

* * *

_The Batcave – 2:42 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"So. . . is Hermione supposed to be interested in Ron?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no," Stephanie replied with frustration while turning back to one of her favorite pages. "See here? She and Harry are riding a hippogriff and a hippogriff is a symbol of love and impossibility! That means that they'll get together in _Half Blood Prince_ after they're asked to go and take on Voldemort, which they both view as impossible. I mean, you'd have to be blind not to see that. All the clues are there in _Order of the Phoenix_!"

"Is that right?" Kara said with a great deal more reluctance, the Kryptonian failing to see either the supposed logic in Stephanie's argument or the appeal of the books that her friend had all but shoved in front of her eyes. Quite frankly, it just all seemed like a big collection of wish fulfillments to her. "Still, I don't get the whole thing about this Pettigrew guy being friends with Moon, Padfoot, and Prongs. I mean, if this guy was such an awful person who wasn't smart and wasn't an athlete then wouldn't he be either ignored or ridiculed by them? Everything I've read about Earthling interaction says this to be the most likely possibility."

The sound of a slight but familiar pop broke Stephanie from the counterargument that she had long since formed about that particular topic and prompted her to turn around. Just as she had hoped, Lloyd and The Batman were there in front of her, the both of them moving quickly to be anywhere other than where they were now. Bruce, in particular, did not even bother to remove his cape or cowl as he all but stomped his way up the stone steps leading to Wayne Manor proper in his usual broody manner. Seemingly always looking for a way to make a fool out of herself, the young Green Lantern bounced out of her seat in order to cross her boss's path.

"Man, you look like hell. So what happened? Was Talia there? You know, I've been wanting to ask you how in the hell Lloyd managed to sneak your Batgear in through. . ."

Lloyd couldn't help but smirk as Batman continued moving, the detective already ten steps ahead of his inquisitive understudy by the time Stephanie thought it wise to rush up the stairs in order to catch up with him. The former employee of Mao Tenryu took a moment to watch the amusing little scene, his lingering frustration somewhat pacified by the foolish undertakings of someone else he had reluctantly come to care for. Lord knows he wasn't the one to take risks such as that. After all, he had long come to recognize the consequences that came with taking unnecessary chances.

"Are you all right?"

And, wow, he didn't even recognize that Kara was here. Kind of odd that, particularly given the fact that she was fidgeting nearly a couple feet away from him in the chair adjacent to the one he had all but collapsed into. There was also the matter that she had a fairly good success rate when it came to catching his eye. He supposed that the brightness of her crystalline blue eyes could be considered to be a little jarring but he personally thought they were quite nice. The unearthly shade meshed well with her long limbs and otherwise slender frame, the combination of physical features imbuing her with a softness and strength all in one intriguing, though somewhat oddly formed package. . .

"I'm fine."

Even Lloyd had enough presence of mind to recognize that he hadn't come forward with the greatest of first lines and the truth of that seemed to resonate in the way that Kara shifted her eyes away from him. He wanted to apologize for his past behavior but, given his present state, there was little chance that he wouldn't embarrass himself in the process so he chose to remain silent.

"So did you. . . did you meet anyone? You know. . . At the party?"

"Nope."

"Oh," Kara all but mumbled, her subtle glint of happiness all but smothered by The Black Dog's all encompassing wave of self-pity. "Well, I'm gonna go. . . somewhere now. Yeah."

Lloyd didn't bother watching her float away, the still unquenched, sex-starved side of him even ignoring the opportunity to take another greedy leer at those long, lovely legs that he'd probably be dreaming about during yet another lonely night. As he wisely waited for the stone door at the top of the stairwell to slide shut, he spent a few moments in relative silence with just the bats to keep him company. The instinctual boot-up of Tetris was soon forthcoming as the half-demon drooped down into his chair until he could lazily rest the back of his head against the crown of his seat.

"Well, maybe we can just be friends," he concluded before diving into his creature comforts.

* * *

_27 Months Later – Kirklareli – Sparagmosia_

"Well, if anything else, it was an interesting night," Thomas Blake reasoned before taking a slow swig of his water bottle. By now he would have normally indulged himself with some of the finer choices of liquid comfort provided by this decrepit drinking establishment but he had long decided to stay on his best behavior. There were a number of reasons behind his decision, not the least of which being the certainty that did not want to do anything that would get him on the bad side of the company he was expecting to keep in the near future. He had learned of the price of such a foolish mistake and had the physical scars to prove it.

However, the biggest reason behind his stone sobriety was the lingering worry that his best friend once again seemed ready to drinking his share as well as her own. It truly hurt him that Scandal still occasionally seemed determined to fill what she had lost via the path of least resistance. He reminded himself to thank Lloyd for rushing to his aid and keep her from getting as low as she could get but the fact remained that he had long lost the dark-seeded desire to see the suffering of someone he had come to care for.

"Come then, my lovely, mildly drunken Shrew," he heard Lloyd say softly while wrapping his right arm tightly around Scandal's shoulders. "You know as well as I that there was nothin' ya could 'ave done differently." Blake blinked his eyes once or twice as Scandal slowly fell into Lloyd's arms, the deep breaths flowing out of her upturned nose making him breathe a little easier in turn. "An' don't ya regret a single moment of time ya spent with 'er. Lord knows she'd wear ya guts fer garters if you did."

Scandal let out a chuckle as she let go of Lloyd, her lips moving forward to give her old friend a quick peck on the cheek. "I won't," she finally decreed, the new chief executive officer of Tenryu Enterprises finally letting some truth come to her words. "Now get out of here. Spend some time with Kara, tell her I said 'hi', and enjoy your day off."

Blake let out a relieved chuckle as The Black Dog replied with a slow, sure nod before rising from his chair, the young man's now forgotten, half-full bottle of Guinness remaining at its place on the ancient table. "All right then. Blake, you want me to drop ya by Helena's place?"

"That'd be nice," Catman confessed before moving across the table. "You gonna be all right, boss?"

The tender, slightly tear-streaked expression on Scandal's face was soft but genuine. "Yeah, I'll be all right." She slowly waved her right hand back and forth as Lloyd and Thomas faded from sight, her two dearest friends doubtlessly off to reap the rewards of their own dangerous labors. Taking a few more seconds to pause and think back, to torture herself with the phantom sensation of Kay's strong hands caressing her shoulders, she slid her glass of whiskey close to her still chin before raising it to her lips.

"Thank you," she whispered to no one before taking a long, heady sip of the bitter, brown liquid. Then, placing the bottle back down on the table, she swiftly rose to her feet and walked out into the night sky.

After all, she was getting just a little tired of sitting still.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, I think I've said all I wanted to say about this particular story. And, given that the insanity well has finally run dry, that can only be construed as a good thing. Honestly, the most difficult task I had in writing this chapter was dredging up D-rate DC villains that the good guys could whale on.

Oh, and for the record, I would like to declare that I have never, under any circumstances, employed "The Hippogriff defense" to support the logic in Harry/Hermione shipping. Though I will be the first to admit that I am a sad, desperate little nerd, even I have my limits. Speaking of which, am I supposed to believe that Alfred and Dick would cheerfully allow Damian Al-Ghul, a punk kid who has cheerfully demonstrated that he has no regard for human life, to become the fifth Robin? I mean, the kid ran an ambulance off a freakin' bridge in the last part of _Batman R.I.P. _and it was meant to be portrayed as funny.

But having a girl play Robin? Oh, no, that's just stupid.

* * *

_Next Story Preview_

There's a couple of bad souls rumbling about Wayne Manor, creatures that may come off as quiet through their words though their actions speak far louder than anyone else can bring to the table. No one really knows what can be done about them, nor if anything should be done, but the fact remains that, if you look at them in a certain way, they can be a little scary. They're not really built for all the attention they receive but they've had some time to realize that there's only so much that they can do about it. In fact, maybe the best thing to be done is just to keep each other company. Stop by in two weeks time to witness the next page in this odd little story: _Settling the Little Grumblies_. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you. . .

Wait a second. Am I forgetting about someone? Oh yeah. . .

* * *

_Day Two – Marianas Trench - 33,000 feet before sea level_

Black Adam had no idea where he was right now. He didn't know how this had happened or how it had been done to him or even what kind of sea creature he had just slugged in the mouth for attempting to devour him from within the inky blankness.

There was one thing he was certain of, however.

He was going to kill that boy.


End file.
